


Catch Me if You Can

by SLiverofJade



Category: The Hollows - Kim Harrison
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Original Character(s), POV Original Character, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-07-16 22:40:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 33,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7287565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLiverofJade/pseuds/SLiverofJade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My first fan fic. Contains all of the spoilers for Kim Harrison's The Hollows Series. Algaliarept/Rosewood Baby (All grown up, of course) While I am more or less happy with everyone's happily ever afters in the final book, I think Al deserved more. I didn't think he'd be happy in the long run. I think he needs a strong woman as messed up as he is to to keep him alive instead of living</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I strode down the street, wind in my hair and a pocketful of cash after another successful job. The sucker had actually thought that he was getting the real Cintamani Stone. That daywalker couldn't tell the difference between fossilized amber from the Tree of Life and a hunk of cheap glass. The real piece was safely tucked away and all I had to do was decide which offer I was going to accept. Yeah, life was good.

_And I looked good, too_ , I thought, catching a glimpse of myself in a store window. Blood red leather jacket that belted around the waist and flared slightly at the hips, the V-necked front filled with a black scarf against the cold. Snug jeans and a pair of tall black boots that hugged my calves and just a slight rise to bump me up to three inches over five feet. Dark brown hair, looking black in the dim light, whipped around my pale face. My lips were painted the same colour as my jacket, and smoky makeup framed my eyes, also dark brown.

Granted I wore a disguise earth charm, but just to change my facial features, and to shorten and straighten my hair. Everything else pretty much stayed the same. Even on simple deliveries I took care to hide what I truly looked like. The thought of what my father would say about my dramatic aesthetic choices flitted through my mind and the reflection's strong jaw tightened. One would think that on the cusp of one's third decade, things like parental approval would diminish in importance. But they don't.

Shoving the thought away, I turned to cross the street and the wind changed direction, carrying a faint musk. _Shit_. My heart skipped a beat before breaking into a full gallop. Only switching my motor functions to autopilot prevented me from freezing, which was not an action I could afford at the moment. Pretending to pull the hair from my face, ok not much pretending needed there, I caught a glimpse of the tail.

He was good. Sticking to the shadows, he was still a block away. But that wouldn't matter to a demon. There was no one else it could be with that scent. I should know. I smell the same way. Crossing as soon as there was a gap in traffic, it took sheer willpower to not speed up. Letting him follow me back to the safe house, even with its defenses and offenses, I wasn't willing to give up that site yet. There was too much inventory to grab and run.

The next block had just what I was looking for: the tucked away parking lot that was mostly empty at this time of night. It was a good spot to drop a car for a bit since locals were pretty much the only ones who knew about it, and it was regularly patrolled by the city, despite lacking working streetlights. And there weren't likely to be any witnesses in the surrounding buildings, or ones willing to talk anyway.

Taking a deep breath, I reached out to the ley line that ran through Pioneer Square. The energy twined with the adrenaline to sing in my veins and sent my hair floating now that it was no longer being blown about. I ran through the spells I knew off the top of my head, wishing I had my little black splat gun. But it was not a good idea to bring an obvious weapon to a deal lest the mark get spooked and assume that they were being double-crossed. There were far subtler ways to pull off a con.

Not that fight was my first instinct. No, mine was to hide, lie, beguile, and/or run. But he had caught my scent and would know if I switched my disguise. I normally carry scent charms, too, but Marko was human so I didn't think I'd need one. Besides, the charm would change my face, not my clothes.

Far quieter than I would have thought possible, my shadow turned the corner and I flung my spell. With a casual flick of his wrist, he sent it spinning into the brick wall on the other side of the lot. _Bloody hell, he_ _'_ _s good_. I drew up more, not bothering with a proper spell, just pure energy and I could have sworn I heard him sigh as if in boredom.

"Elena Verity Cunnington, I have not come to harm you." He batted away the ball, which crashed next to the first. _Crap, he knows my name!_ Dread weighed heavy in my stomach."However, if you insist upon this course of action I will have no compunction in doing so." The growl of his voice rumbled through my chest, dark with the threat. I stopped, but did not let go of the line.

"The name's Kyra now. What do you want?" I asked cautiously. The closest exit that he wasn't blocking was too far because he would undoubtedly be faster. _Demons like deals, let's try that_. "If it's about the Stone, I'm sure we can work something out."

"I am not here over some trinket," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Your presence is requested at the Rosewood Institute of Cincinnati."

"Oh hell no." Adrenaline spiked again and the need to run screamed in my brain. "There's no freaking way I'm going back there! Calix!" He said something at the same time that I shouted my trigger word for a circle, but instead of him being encapsulated by my normal deep red shot through with yellow aura, I was circled by his golden bubble. Panic clutch at my throat, but when it comes to choosing between fear and anger, I invariably chose anger. It keeps you alive longer. I beat at the wall, ignoring the pain of it. "You son of a goat faced whore! When I'm out of here I'm going to shove you ass first into a bottle and sell you to the lowest bidder!"

He simply stood with folded arms and watched over the rim of his square sunglasses, goat-slitted eyes faintly glowed red. I used my tirade to assess him. Standing at approximately six feet, he was of a medium build for that stature. For all I knew he could be all flab under that coat, and he'd still be ridiculously strong. The coat was grey wool cut in not too dissimilar a fashion from mine, accentuating his shoulders and waist. Black pants, that probably hugged his hips, brushed the tops of black suede loafers. The breeze blew dark curls over his forehead and occasionally dimmed the fire of his gaze.

When I ran out of curses, I stopped to catch my breath. But I was not about to rub the burning aches that ran up to my shoulders and above my knees. Huffing, I tossed my hair out of my face, put my hands on my hips, and settled my best glare on him.

"Are you quite done with your little temper tantrum?" he asked, irritation and amusement fought for dominance in his voice. I narrowed my eyes, but said nothing. "Now are you going to come quietly or not?" The lilt to his phrasing indicated that he preferred non-cooperation. I folded my arms and bit the inside of my lip, frantically trying to find an out. But for the life of me, I couldn't find one.

* * *

_Son of a goat-faced whore?_ I was going to have to remember that one.

Damn my dame, she was stubborn, irrational, conniving, and would not recognize what was in her best interests if it kicked her in the teeth. In short, she was a demoness. Or as close as one could get nowadays. She'd actually had the gall to try and circle me! No one had tried to do that in years, not since I had left the FIB officially. If it weren't for the continuation of the species and so on and so forth and the request of one itchy witch, I would make her pay for that. But it was entertaining to watch her desperately think of an escape that did not exist as we had our little stare-down. Interestingly, she never flinched away from my eyes. Maybe I should have increased the glow?

"Who sent you?" she demanded, trying to buy time.

"The heads of the Morgan-Kalamack Foundation," I answered with a calculatedly bored air. There was no harm in letting her play on the line before realizing that she was hooked and being reeled in. Not that I had ever fished a day in my life, but according to certain droll TV shows that was how it was done. However, her fear was not of me, but rather of my purpose. It was not until I mentioned Rachel and her elf's pet project that she truly was afraid. Curious. Now how to use that to my best advantage?

"And as a gesture of my goodwill, I give you this for free. Since you are amongst the original Rosewood babies, the Institute wishes to continue their long-term studies of the cure and to assess whether or not certain conditions are side-effects or are outliers in the sampling." Clasping my hands behind my back, I slid into the mannerisms I had used when lecturing another thick-headed witch.

"What side-effects?" And the hook is set. As simple as this errand was, I found myself wishing for the contracts and trickery of the good ole days. Or maybe they were the bad ole days? I could never decide which. Very few things matched the satisfaction of a cunningly worded agreement that ensnared the opponent.

"Vomiting, sterility, involuntary ley line jumping, heart attack, dementia, spontaneous combustion and/or implosion, erectile dysfunction… Although you wouldn't have any issue with the latter, would you?" I rattled off the direr side-effects that I could remember from various commercials peddling medication. Ever since the two worlds collided I could lie with impunity and I relished every minute of it. Even if Rachel just wanted to check on the one Rosewood baby that had not finished the treatments, it did not preclude me from having a bit of fun.

"You must be Al." A statement, not a question. I gave a low, mocking bow in acknowledgement, albeit a touch of flair was lost without my old velvet and lace. But judging by the way she broke eye contact to look me over, the effect was no less appealing to her. "Who else could the famous Rachel Morgan get to play fetch for her?" Oh, she would pay for that.

I straightened with all the dignity that 5,000 years of existence can bestow and scowled over the rims of my sunglasses, turning up the glow just a touch. I took the time to straighten my scarf and smooth the lines of my coat. Perhaps I should have gone for something more ostentatious? No, that would not intimidate someone who had stolen the Sword of Light from under the noses of the elven enclave.

If I had known of her fears, and it wasn't highly illegal to rifle through a person's mind, I could have used them against her. Not to look like one frizzy redhead, not after she threatened to turn my family jewels into billiard balls for her table that still reeked of vampire. Really, she had completely overreacted, as she was wont to do. Ray and Lucy had known all along that it was me underneath and had treated it like the game that it was. No, not her. Kalamack on the other hand, was fair game. She had not yet learned to close all of her loopholes at the time. The witch at hand began to fidget in the lengthening silence.

"I was contracted to deliver the goods in one piece. However, it is understood that the packaging may become damaged during transit." I cast her a pointed look while adjusting my leather gloves. Instead of blanching, her jaw set and dark eyes glittered in anger. Pain did not bother her then, which should have been obvious considering the way she raged after being circled. Couldn't say I blamed her, but I had rather not engage in a fight that would have undoubtedly injured her and resulted in significant property damage. My insurance, one of the few who would take on demonic clients, had threatened to cancel my policy after the last incident. Oh, and assault and kidnapping was illegal. I keep forgetting that. Not that she would press charges with her record.

"During your last course of treatment sixteen years ago, you checked yourself out against medical advice, for which the statute of limitations is twenty years. While that may be a mere drop in the bucket compared to your various exploits, should the proper authorities be notified as to your whereabouts, you will land so deep in a hospital that you will not see the sun for years. And once released after having been a cross between a guinea pig and a pincushion, you will be shipped straight off to Alcatraz."

Now _that_ had the desired effect. Blood drained from her face and a barely perceptible shiver ran over her. The sharp musk cut with a spicy tang grew stronger with her rising fear. It was delicious, and I allowed myself a moment to savour the scent. When my nostrils flared, she calmed visibly, struggling to control her emotions. "Now, are you going to be a good little girl if I let you out of time out?" I leered.

"Oh, I'll be good." Sensual lips slowly slid into a sly grin and the light in her stare flared brighter. Wicked promise swelled in her smoky voice, but I was not foolish enough to think that it was anything more than a ploy.

I leaned back, putting my hands in my pockets, and pretended to assess her assets. While I was loath to use the zip strip with its charmed silver core that I was currently fingering, the coarse method might keep her from escaping long enough to talk some sense into her. If that were even possible. I truly missed the days when the laws of reality did not apply to my kind. No, if I could not convince one child to go to the doctor, then I was not deserving of the label "demon."

The shimmering circle dropped when I offered my gloved hand to her. She hesitated before accepting, eyeing my other hand to ensure that it had not crept back into my pocket. Something, not quite fear but not quite excitement either, flickered in the depths of her dark eyes and her soft lips parted but before she could say anything the sound of heavy boots echoed from the alleyway.


	2. Chapter 2

When his face hardened my heart dropped, thinking I was truly dead, until I heard the footsteps that had caught his attention. _Marco's men. Dammit, this is what you get for flirting with a demon! Now people are likely to die, and you're one of them!_ They'd be human, so that meant guns. Hopefully I could hold an undrawn circle strong enough to withstand bullets.

"Friends of yours?" he drawled.

"Hardly," I snorted, drawing more line energy in preparation, but a large hand in my peripheral vision waggled its fingers. I followed the fingers, to the hand, up the arm to meet his gaze. Something in his piercing eyes begged me to trust him. I could grab his hand and dump the line through the physical contact and fry him. I could try and save my ass. Or I could trust the demon sent to haul me back to the hell that was the first dozen or so years of my life. _I am so going to regret this._

"Fine," I said through gritted teeth as I thrust my hand roughly into his. "But you are not taking me to Cincinnati."

A sheet of ever after covered us and his aura fell over my mind in a glittering curtain, my heart raced, wondering if I should've taken my chances with the goons. When we popped back into existence, the sun was just peeking over the horizon. The street was mostly empty save for the first of the human early bird crowd and a few straggling Inderlanders. We must be on the East Coast. I reached out for the nearest ley line like it was a security blanket, we were close to the water, which didn't bother me because I was used to West Coast lines. And I quickly dropped it when Al gave a pointed sideways look.

He opened the door of the storefront that we stood in front of and grandly gestured for me to enter before him. The smell of freshly ground coffee hit me like a yummy wave of caffeine. As I stood there appreciating the aroma, he took my arm and we approached the counter with its overly cheerful barista in a green apron. But before I could decide, he'd already rattled off two froufy drinks that I couldn't quite follow since I drank coffee just on occasion and only if it didn't actually taste like coffee. This sounded like it fit that description.

Al glanced at me as if expecting a protest. I just shrugged. If he was picking the drinks, he was buying and I was picking the table. Slipping my arm from his, I chose one against the back wall, near the secondary door for patrons to exit. He arched an eyebrow, not fooled by my selection. I flashed a coy smile that had disarmed many. But was ineffective against an ancient demon.

Soon, he sauntered over with the coffee in two ceramic mugs. I'd always gotten mine to go in case I had to leave suddenly. I was surprised that they actually had real ones. The silence that had fallen was broken after we'd had our first sips. It was really good and the tension knotting me up eased a little with the warmth.

"The view of the sunrise here is quite splendid; don't you think?" We were situated on a rise and the far wall was entirely windows overlooking the ocean. "I found this place when I was working on _Mesozoic_ , or was it the sequel?" He seemed lost in thought, resting his chin in his hand and tapping fingers against his lips.

There were undoubtedly wires and pipes, but if I could circle him that should buy me just enough time for a head start. But he was familiar with the area and I had no idea what state we were even in. He didn't seem to be stopping for breath any time soon as he nattered on, so I pulled out my cell to check the GPS. Before I could even turn it on, he snatched it from my grasp and crushed in it one hand. The mangled clump of electronics landed on the table between us with a faint whiff of ozone.

"Hey!" I cried. He grinned, white teeth contrasting against his dark skin.

The spike of anger, the warmth, and my coat were stifling me, so I shrugged out of my jacket and fluffed my scarf so that it covered most of my neck. I checked the hem of my black long-sleeved shirt to ensure that no gaps of skin were exposed. He'd removed his and the way his crisp blue shirt under the dark grey vest with mother-of-pearl buttons hugged his chest and biceps was very distracting. Suddenly self-conscious, I ran a hand through my wind-blown hair to get its natural waves to lay right. His grin deepened as he watched my fussing.

I couldn't trick him. I couldn't fight him. _Plan C it is then: flirt like a drunk sorority girl and run like hell once his guard was down_. At least he was good looking so it wouldn't be terrible experience.

"You must be a man of many talents to find me," I said, looking at him through my eyelashes. One of my fingers, wrapped in a thin black leather glove, traced the rim of my mug. Crap, I'd have to take it with me if I ran. The bit of saliva on it could be used as a focusing item.

"You have no idea of the breadth of my talents, my dear." The corners of his mouth quirked up and there was a decidedly mischievous glint in his unusual eyes. Blushing, I lowered my eyes and hid behind my cup. It was beyond weird to be using these tricks at the crack of dawn in a café. A femme fatale I was not, but marks were more at ease with me and my somewhat honest reactions, underestimating my true motives. The trick in convincing them was twisting enough truth into the lie that believed some part of it. The hard part was in not believing too much of it myself.

"Speaking of talents is your reticence to return home due to the Sword of Light or the Melusine Eye?" His rapid shift in manner and tone from bedroom to boardroom gave me whiplash.

"Actually, the Hand of Sava," I muttered, turning to watch the sun reflecting off the waves.

"That was you?" He nearly spat out his coffee. "You must have been what? Eighteen years old?"

"Seventeen," I quietly corrected him.

"I have known some insane females in my day, but stealing from Rynn Cormel?" He smiled ruefully with a small shake of his head and lifted his mug in salute.

* * *

After our last meeting, I was in no hurry to tangle with the undead vampire again. It was no wonder she was frightened of returning to Cincinnati. Cradling her small hand in both of mine, I looked over my sunglasses and said in my best, smoldering leading man voice, "I promise that you will be safe."

The heartbeat under my fingertips went from a faint flutter to a gallop before she pulled away, masking her reaction by taking a sip of coffee. Her chestnut hair, almost the same colour mine had been for so long, fell forward to obscure her face, and I was seized with the sudden urge to brush it back behind her ear.

"Oh, I'm sure that's true, but who would keep me safe from you?" she purred, the throaty sound stirring my own pulse in spite of myself.

"I will be a perfect gentleman. You can be in and out with no one the wiser, just the way you like it." I kept my smile just a touch wicked, not lecherous, with a slightly arched brow.

She hid her deepening blush again behind the drink. Intriguing. Either she was unaccustomed to using her feminine charms to her advantage, or she was truly attracted to me. The former was unlikely, and she was too intelligent for the latter. Well, perhaps it was superficial, but I had plenty of groupies for that sort of fling. Be that as that may, I still wondered what she would be like with a bit of training in the old ways. If previous experience was a baseline by which to judge, she would be an amazing force to be reckoned with and a royal pain in my ass.

When she finally lowered the coffee, the colour in her cheeks had cooled and she turned to watch the sun, its rays giving her hair a golden sheen. "What was it like being trapped in the old ever after?" Her question was a whisper.

I dabbed at my mouth with an environmentally conscious napkin to hide my astonishment. Not many people asked that question for fear of angering, if they cared at all beyond morbid fascination. Something in her face made me discarded my flippant response cultivated for interviews.

"Hell," I answered simply. "An unending hell from which there is no escape save for when someone wants to use you." My harsh words delivered impassively provoked no discernible reaction in her.

"I think I understand," she said so softly that I believed she truly did. As though a switch was flipped, she cleaned the rim of her now empty cup with another brown napkin, which went into her pocket. Her motions too quick and precise, her smile a little too perfect, her sad eyes a little too bright.

"Calix," she said, and a crimson sheet of ever after closed between us, variegated with yellow as bright as the rising sun. And then I understood. It was the colour of survival at any cost. There was something back there that terrified her more than the disease. More than Cormel. And she was still running from it.

"I am sorry," she said, donning her jacket, the leather molding to her curvaceous figure. Her wall of aura between us tinted her pale face like dripping blood. She knew that the circle, undrawn and broken by wires and pipes, would not hold me for long. Yet I knew too well the instinct to run despite all logic to the contrary.


	3. Chapter 3

Turning left out the door, and out of Al's line of sight, I ran until the air burned in my lungs, my legs turned to rubber, and my feet and ankles protested my choice in footwear. After changing directions and zigzagging blocks several times, I managed to flag down a taxi.

"Hi," I said breathlessly, nearly falling into the back seat. "Is there a train station or something nearby? I was on vacation with friends, and I like have no idea where I am." I turned up the airhead attitude hard, complete with exaggerated eyerolls and bubbly smile.

The Were driver just shook his head in faint amusement. "Happens a lot here in Atlantic City, miss," he said with a heavy Jersey accent as he pulled into traffic.

"Oooh, that's why I don't remember last night! Maybe that's why my boyfriend's mad at me? Hey, could you take me to the airport instead please?" I had a spare fake ID stashed in a hidden pocket in my left boot, in case the demon knew which one I was using. Looking out the back window, a figure in a grey coat dwindled in the distance.

"Oh no, that's him!" I said, not much pretense of fear needed to add the scent to make it believable. "He can't like call your dispatch and find out where I'm going, can he? He gets sooo mad." I frowned in worry, also not much guile needed for that.

"Don't worry 'bout it," he said soothingly. "We ain't Vegas, but what happens here, stays here." He winked at me in the rearview mirror. So if I tipped well, he'd have to bribe even better to get any information. Or intimidate, but the press would be all over a demon actor threatening a cabdriver like a shark on a wounded seal. And for the first time since I left for the drop, I relaxed.

* * *

"That little cannicula!" I snarled, kicking a bright colouredly stuffed bear. It hit the wall with an annoying chirping squeak. Rachel frowned at the curse word. If the boys picked up certain vocabulary I would be blamed, naturally. I still maintain that the girls had gleaned their more interesting words from Jenks, but naturally she did not agree, always blaming her demon. Even worse would be if I woke them up because then they would become my responsibility, and I was in a mood not fit for children.

"You said this would be a milk run!" I jabbed an accusing finger at her.

"No, Al, that's what you said," she said calmly. There was a time when she would have turned this into a shouting match. Motherhood was good on her. Getting laid regularly by someone other than her nasty little men helped, too. "I said not to underestimate her."

"She circled me!" I growled, kicking another plush toy. At least that one did not make noise when it rebounded off the wall.

"To be fair, you did start that," she smirked, bending to pick up the larger, heavier plastic toys and put them away in their box.

"She lobbed an energy ball at me!" I snarled.

"Since when've you ever needed to bubble someone over an energy ball?" she asked dryly, folding her arms.

"Since I do not want assault and kidnapping charges brought against me," I snapped. There was nothing else to kick, so I folded my arms right back at her. "Need I remind you as to who made us agree to become law-abiding citizens?" I levelled her with the look that used to send her knees a'knockin'.

"You and I both know she wouldn't, not with her rap sheet," laughed Rachel. "You didn't do the lecherous thing, did you? Al, I told you that doesn't do it for women," she sighed in exasperation, hands moving to her hips.

"Don't fret, itchy witch, I reserve that for you alone," I ogled her pose.

"Gee, thanks," she said snidely, rolling her eyes.

"Why do you care about this little witch?" Flopping onto the couch, I leaned my head over the back and closed my eyes, the cushions sinking to cradle me like I lounged on marshmallows. Real marshmallows that smelled like elves, babies, and Rachel instead of burnt amber. "I swear I will never comprehend your affinity for little thieves. Surely the species will survive without that irritating bint."

"There are several reasons," she said, the cushions barely shifting as she sat next to me. "You know what she stole, but not why. Look into who she sold them to before you start lumping her in with Nick." The years had eased most of the bitterness she injected into the name. I would never comprehend the conflict she still felt over his death. "But really, I asked you because I think she'll listen to you."

"Her listening capabilities are on par with where yours were in the beginning," I snorted. "Before I managed to beat some sense into you, that is." I opened one eye to look at her.

"You do that, and one of you'd would wind up dead. If not, she'd run so far and hide so deep we'd never find her. She'd never trust you again." Red curls swung wildly as she shook her head.

"You think she trusts me now? Did I beat you one time too often and addle your brains, itchy witch?" I opened the other eye and turned my head towards her.

"She trusted you enough to get her out of that alley and somewhere safe that wasn't Cincy or Alcatraz. She could've taken them on herself, or left them for you to deal with," she pointed out with a shrug. "But that would've been messy, so instead she trusted the infamous Al rather than risking anyone getting hurt."

"Why did I ever agree to this?" I groaned and pinched the bridge of my nose. "This was so much easier when I wasn't bound by the laws of humanity."

"Because you were bored," she grinned. "Admit it, you like the challenge."

"I was not," I scowled. "I was merely between projects."

"Keep telling yourself that," she said dryly as she stood. "Now are you done with your temper tantrum and going to help me make dinner or not? Didn't you once say the way to a woman's heart is through her stomach? If so, you're going to need to be able to cook something other than cheese sandwiches."

"Why, itchy witch, do you want me to bake you a cake?" I leered, allowing her to pull me to my feet.


	4. Chapter 4

Chewing on my bottom lip, I eyed the five story drop to the pavement. I had paced out my steps on the rooftop, chalk marking my starting point for the run up and where I needed to launch off the stone lip. I bounced on my toes. I was already warmed up. _Don't think, just do_.

I tucked the speed enhancement charm behind my collar where it'd be in contact with my skin. I backed up, and before I could overthink it, I sprinted towards the edge. One, two, three, four, and jump on five. I soared across the gap, the weightlessness and adrenaline was exhilarating. The impact on the lower rooftop that was my target landing was not.

Flexing my knees, the jolt still thrummed painfully up my legs and I tucked my shoulder as my momentum threw me forward. I rolled twice and lay flat on my back, gulping in air for one more night. I wanted to wait until my shins stopped screaming before rising. Sunset had faded and the sky was darkening to a deep velvet scattered with the few diamonds of stars visible despite Boston's lights.

A dark form lit only by a pair of red, goat-slitted eyes broke my view. More adrenaline burned through my veins and I kicked one booted foot aimed at his tender bits. Faster than the eye could follow, vampire fast, he retreated.

Scrambling to my feet, I spun to put the access door to my back and reached for the knife sheathed at my hip. I sucked at hand-to-hand combat. But I sure as hell wasn't going to make it easy for him. This was going to suck big time, but I didn't dare cast any curses what with the lookouts watching the building. Against that speed, the splat gun on my other hip would just be a waste of potions, even with my own enhancement.

Before I could set into a defensive position, strong hands gripped my shoulders and slammed my back against the door, knocking the wind from me when the doorknob dug into my vertebrae. Fire burst and it felt like my spine was broken. Gritting back the pain and ignoring the false darkness and stars that filled my vision, I kicked for where a shin would be. A deep grunt was my reward when the steel toe of my vamp-made boot connected with bone.

When I could see again, those fiery eyes hovered inches from mine. I froze. Heat pooled in my belly. He slid one hand up my arm to the hand clutching the dagger and dug one thumb into a pressure point until the weapon fell from numb fingers to clatter on the floor. I bit my tongue to avoid crying out.

With my free hand, I clawed his face, leaving long rivulets of blood. My stomach churned, feeling the flesh collect under my nails. His snarl rumbled through my chest and his grip moved from my shoulder to pin that wrist against the wall. During all of this, I never stopped lashing out with my booted feet until he pressed his whole body against me. Feet on either side of mine, I could barely wriggle. Even if I could tap a line, I was no match for a demon.

Of all the thoughts to pop into my head, I wondered why I couldn't smell him, despite the fact that my face was practically buried in his chest. He must have figured out that, that was what had given him away last time and done something about it. A neat trick, I'd have to ask him how he did it if he didn't kill me or drag me off first. Even stranger was that I was disappointed I couldn't catch his scent. What was worse was the thrill that'd sparked with the jump now flared till my veins sang in anticipation.  _Get it together.  Let's just hope that he thinks it's all adrenaline._

* * *

"Well, it looks like you have me between a rock and a hard place," she simpered, going limp in apparent defeat. Though the pounding in her wrists belied her seemingly relaxed state. I was not about to release her hands just to play into them, even if she smelled delicious from adrenaline with just a hint of fear.

"And just what do you have your sticky fingers into this time, hmm?" I tilted my head down at her with an expression specifically designed to send even demon summoners running for their mommies. The petite thief was merely annoyed behind her seductive mien.

"Why don't you open the door and see for yourself?" she smirked.

"Ladies first," I growled down at her. A shiver ran through her soft body, the feel and the spicy scent of her filling my mind, sending yearning racing through me even though I knew it was in all probability fear or disgust on her part. The reaction passed too quickly to register which emotion it was in her natural perfume.

I slowly released her and stepped back, trying to ignore the sharp aches from where her kicks had landed, and gestured for her to open the door. She glanced down at the pigsticker lying on the floor then back at me. I retrieved it, rolling the cool metal across the backs of my knuckles before offering it to her hilt first with a little flourish. Rolling her eyes, she slipped it into the sheath on her hip.

Turning around, she eyed a spell-detecting amulet on her wrist. I leaned over her shoulder, close enough to disturb her chin-length black hair with my breath, to look. It was a steady green. She poked my nose hard with a black-gloved finger to get me out of her personal space. To my annoyance, I did instinctively jerk back.

Not bothering to hide her satisfied smile, she drew out a small penlight in a spectrum only visible to elves and demons. I recognized it from Trenton's laboratories. Handing it to me, she said, "Make yourself useful." I gave her a wry look, but took it and shone it on the door.

"And where did you obtain this delightful little toy, hmm?"

Ignoring me, Elena Verity Cunnington knelt and inserted her picks into the lock. I peered over her shoulder again, watching her deft fingers work the curious metal rods.

"Do you mind?" she huffed.

"Not very well, or so I am told," I smirked with my tone as well as my mouth. She swung her straight hair, very reminiscent of one vampire in my acquaintance, backwards. The gesture made me think that she customarily had her hair in a braid. As it was, the silken inky strands tickled my face and filled me with her scent till I could practically taste the spice on my tongue.

"How'd you find me anyway?" Her attention was split equally between her task and me.

"Magic, little witch," I said smugly.

"Hey, watch the light!" she snapped.

"I thought you thieves do your thing in the dark." If she'd had a free hand, I suspected that she would have back-handed me. "Does this normally take this long?"

"I prefer to do this without an audience." The words hissed through clenched teeth.

"Oh? Not an exhibitionist, then?" I purred. A small click came from the lock and she made a small sound of satisfaction as she stood.

"Nope, bad for the career. But you're obviously enough of one for both of us." The retort lacked her previous attitude. She was distracted as she pulled rope from her pack and tied one end to an exhaust pipe near the ledge, the rest she left in a coil with the speed enhancement charm nestled inside.

"Good for the career," I shrugged.

"If you have anything on you, get rid of it now or you'll set off the alarm." She spun to me with one hand on her hip and one warning finger in my face. I spread my hands, gloved as hers were, and flashed my most innocent smile. A black eyebrow rose in disbelief. The earth spell was really just a complexion charm slightly modified to change her hair, and wouldn't trigger anything.

"Feel free to search me." Still feigning innocence, I posed to show off my body to best effect, although she probably couldn't fully appreciate it in the darkness.

"If you blow this for me, I will hogtie your ass and leave you here with a pretty little charmed silver bow for the vamp gang, into who's territory we're currently breaking and entering." She stepped closer, the cautioning finger never lowering, and for a moment I thought she would jab my nose again.

"If you attempt to, I promise that it will be one of the last mistakes you will live to regret." This look of menace was also perfected. She did not back down, nor did she smell afraid. She accepted the threat as fact with a small nod of her head.

"Follow me and don't touch anything," she directed sharply, watching the amulet while cracking open the door. Still green.

"While that aerial display was impressive, why did you not go in the front door?" I kept my voice low so as not to carry any farther than necessary.

"Because they have lookouts." Her boots were practically silent in the stairway. They were both functional and sexy, when they weren't trying to pound bits of me into jelly.

"So?"

"So I don't feel like picking a fight unless it's absolutely necessary. Because my choices would be to knock them out and risk being found out in the process, or kill them. I'm not a fan of either," she answered with one eye on the detector.

"And how are we to get out?"


	5. Chapter 5

_We?_ "The rope I tied off on the roof."

"Hmm, you're into rope, are you?" Al managed to turn the question into a purr.

"Will you please shut up?" God, I hoped my voice didn't sound as breathy as it did to me. Adrenaline aftermath, that was all.

The spell detecting amulet was a nice steady green. Other than the alarm that would trip if I so much as tapped a line, the security was entirely mundane and pre-Turn. It was an effective decoy, the lack of more defenses making it appear that there was nothing worth stealing. It would seem that way unless you knew that pixies and spells could interfere with electronics such as CCTV and motion detectors. The older the system, the more secure it was.

At the office level I had Al hold the light again while I got the lock. I really hoped he wouldn't steal it because I had held that thing in my mouth as I worked more times than I could count. I would not want any focusing item of mine in his hands. "Help me search for the safe," I whispered. And to my surprise, he obeyed.

We found the faint worn pile in the carpet at the same time. He moved the rolling cabinet effortlessly to reveal the basic combination lock. I retrieved the stethoscope from my bag, the single shoulder strap across my chest allowed me to swing it around to my front quickly. Technically it wasn't a medical stethoscope, it was a technical gadget that amplified the sounds of the tumblers, but stethoscope was easier to say than whatever its name was that I'd forgotten. Thankfully, the demon was silent as I set to work.

One final turn of the dial and the lock gave that faint, satisfying click. I pulled the stethoscope from my ears and tucked it back inside the bag. Now my heart began pounding in earnest, knowing that the prize would soon be in my hands. I carefully pried the door just enough to break the air seal. The amulet flashed to red.

* * *

Her chest heaved in her excitement, her fragrance became overwhelming in the small confines of the office and my own pulse quickened in response. Carefully, she threaded fine lines of energy into the spell, whispering the Latin incantation of dissolution. A final hand sign and the amulet went back to green. So the little witch could spindle energy. Who could have taught her? She was not carrying a great amount, probably not expecting to have to anything more than deactivate the trap.

"It's lined with lead," she explained. "Unlike charmed silver, it prevents detection without interfering with the spell, which activates when it's opened more than an inch or two." Inside, there were a couple of thick files and a few stacks of crisp hundred dollar bills. All of this quickly disappeared into the pack. Closing the door, she returned the dial to its starting number and replaced the rolling cabinet.

"And what juicy bit of blackmail do you have there, little witch?" I asked, following her out with a tightening growing low in me. Really one would think that I would be a bit more blasé about watching a cute ass practically painted in black spandex, but I was old, not dead.

"What are you willing to pay for it?" she smirked as she locked the door behind us. This was a far cry from the scared, blushing girl at the coffee shop. Extortion and grand larceny was her element, whereas an early morning conversation over coffee was not. Either she was a sociopath or she needed to get out more. I should know, having been both at one point.

The beeping of a truck backing up interrupted my response. "Shit!" she breathed, eyes going wide in fear. Spinning, she pressed back into the hallway between the offices. I reached for her hand, preparing to jump us. "No!" she hissed, slapping my arm away.

"Tell me, little witch, why I should not take you kicking and screaming by the scruff of the neck to wherever I damn well please?" I glowered down at her. _Why do I become entangled with the most impossible females who cannot see sense when it is right in front of their noses?_

"Because anything bigger than a complexion charm will set off the sensors," she said through gritted teeth. Someone entered through a door at the far end and opened the large overhead door to the shipping bay. The rattling filled the open space, covering our conversation.

"Yet you could be on the other side of the continent before it even sounded, instead of hiding here like a rat," I breathed into her ear, pulling more of her scent into me like a drug.

"They'll kill their cargo before burning the place down to cover it up." Her eyes practically glowed with the hatred that seethed through her. It was still odd to not have it directed at me.


	6. Chapter 6

Thankfully he fell silent as they began unloading people, both human and Inderlander, hands bound before them with zip strips. My fists clenched till my nails dug into my palms, mind racing to match my heartbeat. _Dammit, I hate feeling this helpless! We wait until they're gone to free… No, they'd leave at least one guard, but we could take on one and what the devil is Al doing?_

A black burst shot out the spell sensor hanging from the ceiling. The vampires whirled, seeking the source and their captives scattered for shelter behind pallets of boxes. Al strode down the stairs with a cold fury, dark and tall as death. His curls rose from the ever after filling him like a black storm. I scrambled to follow, fumbling for the splat gun in my bag.

If the vampires had been undead, we wouldn't have stood a chance. Well, ok, I wouldn't have stood a chance. Since they were living, at least I'd make it out of here in mostly one piece. The first vamp went down with a curse, the second with a sleep charm from my gun. The second pair learned from the rash mistakes of the predecessors and split up to hide with their prisoners where it would be slightly more difficult to pick them out in the dark. And where they had their choice of human shields.

I moved to edge around to where I thought the one closest to me was, but Al grabbed my arm. "Stay close," he growled.

"Let me go or I'll plug you," I snapped, trying to pull from his grasp. Unsuccessfully I should add for the sake of honesty. It was like trying to break handcuffs. I know from experience.

"If you want to commit suicide, might I recommend some far pleasanter methods?" he pulled me closer and bared his teeth in what could never be described as a smile. The warmth of him quickly seeped through the thin suit, but I refused to give in to the strange comfort it lent me.

"Keep dreaming, peacock," I said, shooting the vampire that crossed into the open behind Al. She went down with an oh so gratifying boneless thud.

The demon glared balefully, drawing on the line again, I could feel it trying to arc between us. In spite of myself, I flinched first, expecting him to direct that power at me. Then dumped what I held into him to burn his synapses before he could kill me. He took it all, spindling it before it could hurt him, and I gasped at the tingling that ran through my body as he absorbed everything I could throw at him. It was like a slap had instead turned into a passionate kiss.

A sudden wave of longing flowed to fill the emptiness left behind, and I wanted to open to pull back what I had given him. All my will went into fighting the instinct and the dizzying sensation until my knees could no longer hold me. I fell against his firm chest, one arm slipped around my waist to hold me against him. Distantly, some part of me registered the curse that he threw at the vampire coming up behind me.

"Imagine the breadth of my talents, Elena Verity Cunnington," he whispered in my ear and I shuddered once at the promise in his voice before managing to push him away, struggling to catch my breath.

* * *

"I told you, it's Kyra now. And tell me you didn't kill them," she demanded, hands on her hips in a very familiar stance, looking at the unconscious vampires.

"Of course not, but they won't stay asleep for long so hurry along now, my little witch," I said, shooing her towards the bedraggled rescues and turning towards the limp forms on the floor. While she cut them free, I found more zip strips in the vampires' pockets and used the ties on them.

"Do any of them have a cell phone?" she asked. I tossed the one I discovered to her, and she quickly punched in a number from memory. The person on the other end was clearly audible to me. It was the FIB. "There are about a dozen people slated for blood farms at 1835 Wharf Street. Four living vampires, zip stripped and knocked out with both potions and ley line spells."

Not waiting for the requisite follow up questions from the other end, she snapped the phone shut and handed it to one of the humans with instructions to start calling loved ones. By calling the FIB, even though Inderlanders were involved, and having the victims contact loved ones helped insure that the IS wouldn't make them disappear rather than allow the scandal to get out. Matters had greatly improved since living vampires now held the souls of the newly undead. But bureaucracy changes at a glacial rate, even slower when directed by old masters clinging to their dwindling power fang and nail.

In short order, she had parceled out one of the bundles of money and gave instructions on how to hide the bills so that they wouldn't be easily found and confiscated by the authorities when they descended on the warehouse. After a moment's hesitation, she took pictures of certain pages with her cellphone and dispersed the files among them so that no single one of them was responsible for the whole stack.

There was a precise efficiency to her movements, disentangling herself from weepy gratitude without seeming to be distant or cold. Along with the cash and papers, she dispensed comforting murmurs and words carefully constructed to stiffen backbones where necessary, sometimes in the same breath. Each act was calculated to achieve the best effect, and yet appeared to be second nature to her as she moved quickly.

"And remember, you never saw who was here. You found this and freed yourselves." She set a pair of bolt cutters on the tailgate of the truck just as sirens sounded in the distance.

She ran back up the stairs and to the roof where she packed her rope and amulet back up. "Can I get a lift?" she asked, holding out a gloved hand. As I took it in mine, but before we could leave, she added, "Anywhere but Cincinnati, that is?"

 _Crafty witch_ , I grinned in sly appreciation. Aloud, I said, "I promise that I will not take you to Cincinnati until you are ready."

Although she did all she could to conceal it, her mind was in turmoil with excitement, trepidation, pride, and remembered pain as I enfolded her in a protective circle. This was not due to any failure on her part, it was impossible to hide much from someone circling your mind while changing the resonance of your being to transport them through the ley lines.


	7. Chapter 7

We stood in front of an upscale restaurant on a street filled with fresh salt air. Reaching out, I touched a ley line that seemed vaguely familiar. "LA?" I asked and Al beamed in response. While I hadn't gotten a good look at what he was wearing before, I was pretty certain that it wasn't the tailored Italian white wool suit with a blood red silk ascot held in place by a small diamond pin. Matching cufflinks sparkled at his wrists.

Then I noticed the breeze on my bare skin. Instead of the black bob, my natural hair fell in its natural waves down my back. My reflection in the window wore a crimson dress the colour of my aura that left my back and shoulders bare. I stiffened, jerking the white silk pashmina-style shawl hanging from my elbows up to my neck. At least he had good taste in makeup, which, as an actor, he should.

"Where are my clothes?" I demanded, straining to not yell. Fingernails dug into my naked palms. "And my bag?"

"Fret not, my little witch," he said placatingly, taking my elbow. Energy sparked between us and I let it, hoping it gave him a nasty shock. "They're at my home, not far from here."

A film of ever after formed over me and left behind a dress of the same colour, but with lace sleeves that fell to the wrist, below which there were now dainty white satin gloves. The lace continued up to wrap around the back of my neck and dipped to between my breasts in a slit that barely showed anything more than a hint of flesh. A minute portion of tension left my shoulders.

"Get me my own clothes _now_." I drew myself up to my full height, which was approximately five foot three in those shoes, and resisted the urge curse his ass back to the ever after.

"If you would prefer the catsuit, I will happily oblige. I am sure that no one would be interested in pictorial evidence of an Oscar winner having dinner with a mysteriously beautiful young woman in skin-tight black spandex, knee-high combat boots, and a knife and splat gun on either hip. After all, how many cell phones could there possibly be in one little restaurant?" Al said a little too casually.

I blanched at the thought of how quickly that image would circulate. "Has anyone told you this is incredibly invasive?" I frowned, gesturing to the outfit.

"Perhaps. People say many things to which I pay very little mind: requests for autographs, pleas for mercy, so on and so forth." He gestured dismissively and wrapped the other arm around my waist, dropping back to my elbow when I went rigid again. _What are you playing at, you stupid little witch? You should be running._

"Nice dress. Is it yours or do you keep it around to play dress up with your little groupies?" I asked sweetly. "Pro tip: women don't like wearing other women's clothes."

"I do have access to an entire warehouse of wardrobe and accessories," he said, ruddy face lit by the late afternoon sun. "But if it's dress up you want, would you prefer nurse or French maid?"

"Why are we here?" I sighed, folding my arms with the shawl snugged tight around me.

"Because we are both famished and a successful daring rescue calls for celebration," he said grandly, adjusting the ascot.

"I'm not hungry," I protested, but my stomach chose that moment to voice its disagreement, causing me to blush under his knowing look. He didn't wear the sunglasses, then again, if he lived around here, the locals would be more or less accustomed to a demon. If one could ever be said to become accustomed to Al.

With a smug grin, he let go of me to open the door. I wobbled momentarily in the unfamiliar white heels, then caught my balance. Quicker than the eye could follow, he caught my arm as I stumbled. Spindled energy surged towards our brief contact before I managed to reel it back. What was wrong with me? It'd been years since I lacked this much control. Maybe low blood sugar? I hated eating before a job. When the adrenaline hit it tended to make a rather messy reprise.

Obviously Al was known here because he was greeted by name and we were seated by the windows overlooking the setting sun on the water. The man had a thing for sunsets and sunrises. As well he should, having been deprived of them for an age. Thankfully he didn't say anything when I angled for the seat with the best view of the door. Not even a quirk of a knowing brow, even though it put him out of ready sight of any admirers and myself where I could be best recognized. But I couldn't sit with my back to the open area of the restaurant.

Prattling on about the wine selection, he settled on a dry white when I offered no input. Personally, I didn't care whether it came from Napa or Zimbabwe as long as it wasn't red. With a more or less captive audience, he told amusing stories of show business, local landmarks, and generally held up both ends of the conversation quite well. He also ordered for both of us. I didn't care because at that point I'd have eaten cardboard if it was slathered in peanut butter.

I used the time to observe him in the moments where he thought no one was watching. On the surface, he was a curious balance of the capricious demon that people expected, mixed with the flamboyant celebrity he was. But underneath the masks, he still carried a weight that I could not even begin to comprehend. Even though he'd been free for nearly thirty years, his red eyes were torn between the sun glinting over the ocean and maintaining the proper amount of eye contact as though he couldn't get enough of the light.

* * *

Outwardly, I babbled about mundane aspects of my life in LA, but inwardly I wondered at the shocking number of scars that covered her arms, shoulders, and, from what little I saw before she managed to cover herself, her back. I suspected that the marks continued over the rest of her body, the ones on her legs hidden by nylons. Only one or two were vampire bites, the rest apparently from a variety of sources. Suddenly I viewed her pain tolerance in a whole new light.

Not that I harboured any pity for her. She would likely perforate my gullet with that dessert fork should I even suggest the notion. Were it not for my countless vanity curses, I should look much the same, if not worse. I knew she would not forgive me for revealing what she carefully kept hidden. Not even for tiramisu. _Is that considered a cake?_

Under her disguise, chestnut hair flowed in soft waves to just below her narrow shoulders and framed her innocent seeming oval face. But her deep chocolate eyes belied her cunning mind. Sweet mother of chaos, she actually had dimples, not that she was smiling much.

By the time the appetizer arrived, I was becoming winded and she was on her second glass of wine. Those dark eyes in that unreadable face and the way they bored into me was unnerving. Wanting to unsettle her in return, I shifted the topic suddenly, "I was attempting to figure out why you cared enough to steal, yet not enough to take out the vamps. It was the most efficient method of interfering with their affairs. You tried to stop me. Why?"

Her chin lifted and a thrill of satisfaction rolled through me as ire flashed across her face. "The intent was to get evidence so a full investigation could be performed," she said stiffly. "Without spooking them into torching the whole operation." This last she said pointedly to indicate people, not just infrastructure. "But because they were early and you couldn't keep it in your pants, the whole job was a bust." Her voice was low and strained with the effort of keeping her anger under control. "And instead of delivering what I was hired to get, we are sitting here eating goddamn, whatever the hell these are, while you pat yourself on back."

"Oysters, love," I answered. "The FIB have the files now, so what's the problem?"

"I was supposed to get one to someone who wanted to see to something personally." Her response was as stiff as her neck currently was.

"Your morals won't permit you to hurt someone who deserves it, yet you have no compunction about aiding another in doing so?" I folded my arms, tilted my head, and regarded her with a touch of disdain.

"I know what it's like to need revenge." Mahogany ringlets formed a curtain to hide her face when she turned to watch the ocean. I could still see her faintly through the reflection in the window, but I allowed her the false privacy and instead refilled our glasses. The conversation of our fellow diners should have drowned out her quiet words, but all I could hear was her smoky voice. I found myself reassessing the young witch. By the familiar, haunted look in her eyes, she too knew what it was like to be twisted in the desperate search for vengeance. Even if it meant becoming a monster in the process.

"What is this anyway? Save the species? If so, you can find someone else to be your baby mama!" As suddenly as I had changed to throw her off-guard, she was using the same tactic on me in order to gauge my reaction. Needless to say, it was genuine as I choked on my wine.

"If that were my intent, I would have had you by now," I scowled when I had recovered.

"Then perhaps I should take precautions just to make sure." My eyes bulged as the heel of a stiletto suddenly dug into a very tender area. Bartholomew's balls the woman played dirty. At least with Rachel you could usually see her coming from a mile away.

The little witch smiled her innocent dimpled smile and sipped her wine as if we were discussing the weather. I shifted backwards to take her foot onto my thigh. Gripping the ankle in a firm hold, I brushed my fingertips across her arch. Her eyes widened, pupils dilating, then they narrowed. I released her when she began assessing the sharpness of the flatware. Casting curses here would attract undue attention. But the faint scent of blood from a few discreet puncture wounds would not be seen as noteworthy.

"As I said previously, I made a deal with Rachel Morgan because for some reason she feels responsible for ensuring that your Rosewood syndrome doesn't relapse. So I suppose that in some fashion, yes, 'this' is an attempt to 'save the species'," I growled. She still had no fear of me. It appeared that unless I was physically assaulting her, she couldn't be intimidated. "But apparently some are too stubborn and are therefore subject to Darwinism."

She was silent for a long while, looking anywhere but at me. Then she fixed me with that dark stare and said those magic words that were my bread and butter for untold years: "I'll make you a deal." Needless to say, my interest, among other things, was piqued.

"Hasn't anyone ever warned you against making deals with demons, little witch?" I smiled with one half of my mouth.

Twirling the delicate stem of the glass, she watched the pale, honey-coloured wine chase the rim. "A truth for a truth. First one to chicken out pays for dinner."

"Your confidence is astounding, considering your bag is at my place," I chuckled. _Is she digging for information?_ I wondered. _There's very little that she can pry from me for leverage of any sort._ _Although there may be some still willing to pay for something that might bring me down._ The tabloids would certainly leap at the chance for even a sniff.

She pulled up the delicate lace sleeve to reveal an old Were bite just above her wrist. "Got this when I was a Brimstone mule." Over the glass, she watched me as she took a long swallow, her pale neck shifting with the movements of her throat.

I pondered for a moment before leaning forward to whisper conspiratorially, "On occasion I have been known to cheat and use spells to memorize my lines."

"You'll have to do better than that, Hollywood," she laughed. Tugging off a glove finger by finger, she revealed a pale burn across the back of her hand. The slow, deliberate act combined with the revelation was strangely sensual, and she probably knew it. "Arson job."

It was my turn to buy time with a sip of wine. "I was a slave trader." An expected occupation of my kind, she didn't flutter an eyelash.

With her nude hand she pulled up the other sleeve to show a wide, ragged scar that wrapped diagonally across the main muscle of the forearm. "This is what happens if you don't defuse the spell in that safe in time. Especially when stealing certain illegal medicines."

"I excelled at it. I enjoyed dragging souls down into hell with me where I could distract myself from my suffering by tormenting them." I fixed her with my stare, from which she had not flinched once. Nor had she recoiled in either pity or horror. And now I knew why.


	8. Chapter 8

I don't even know what possessed me to play this demented version of show and tell. I just know that I couldn't stand the way he looked at me after he first saw my scars. Some part of me hoped that he would drop the gentleman pretense once he realized I was damaged goods, and just leave me alone.

Heat rose in my face as I drew the fabric down over a shoulder, more flesh than I had willingly shown anyone in a long time, and certainly in not so public a setting. Yet it was far less than the woman sitting across from us. I was fairly certain I had seen her picture somewhere before. I think it was in a Valeria's Crypt ad.

"The first time I tried to kill someone. Bastard bounced the curse right back at me. Good thing I didn't know what I was doing." Readjusting the neckline, I reached for the bottle with to refill my glass, angry at how my hand shook. But he beat me to it, stopping when I indicated.

"I presume the bastard deserved it?" he asked, one eyebrow arched. _Turn me but he looked good when he did that_.

"I was robbing his place and panicked," I shrugged the other shoulder.

"Why the game, Kyra?" asked Al softly. My breath gave a little hitch at hearing my name, my chosen name, on his lips in that sophisticated, faintly British accent.

"You're not playing right, Al. You have to give a little to get a little," I said coyly.

"The elves kept me as a slave for years, the instant I had a chance, I turned the tables." Fiery goat-slitted eyes pinned me in place, blazing in wrath for pushing him to use that bargaining chip in order to get his answer, even though it only confirmed what I had suspected. History books were just now being written of that time. It had taken two demon-elf marriages to get both sides to simply agree on a timeline, if not the particular motivations for any given event.

We fell silent as our meal arrived, exchanging the usual pleasantries with the waiter, none of which I actually registered. Surf and turf, bloody, just the way I liked it. Ignoring my demonic date and the awkward silence, I knocked the decorative vegetation to one side and cut into the steak with short, harsh strokes. Hopefully all that protein would stop the shakes.

I wolfed it down far too fast to fully appreciate the flavour, not caring what he thought of my poor manners. Somehow he had known that I was ravenous so really he shouldn't be surprised. At least he'd gotten the mashed potatoes without garlic, but then he'd be aware of that particular sensitivity, thus the white wine instead of red.

When I was finished, I leaned back and avoided his stare by watching the flickering of the candle, shaped like a lotus and floating in a small bowl of water to one side. His voice startled me out of my reverie. "Why the game, Kyra?"

I considered my words carefully. "I didn't like the way you were looking at me. Like I'm some sort of Robin Hood in a bodysuit."

"And what of how you've been staring at me, Elena Verity Cunnington? As if I'm the Big Bad Wolf and will eat you alive!" he snarled, wielding my name like a blade. His fist tightened on his glass till I thought it would snap. His control certainly had because whatever he had been using to hide his scent broke, and the deep musk tinged with sunlit cedar hit me like a flood.

My teeth clicked together audibly to fight back a gasp as a spike of desire shot through me in response. I turned away as though unable to meet his eye, when in reality I was afraid he'd see my reaction and laugh. I could only hope that he mistook my red face and rapid breathing as anger, which was certainly part of the confusing mix boiling through me, and since it was familiar, I was going to focus on that.

"Since you showed up you've threatened me with Alcatraz as the only other alternative to dragging me back to my own personal hell, so pardon me if you're not exactly on my Solstice card list," I said snidely and adjusted the shawl in an attempt to hide my trembling. Whether it was from anger, adrenaline, or the way his deep growl sent delicious shivers down my spine, I couldn't say. The whispers in the back of my head that had been telling me to run since we got here grew louder.

"Oh love, I have not yet begun to play the villain." His rich voice was laced with menace, and this time I could not hide my shudder.

"Is that what you want? To be seen as the villain? Does that make it easier for you?" With a great effort of will, I managed to meet his glowing glare.

"So quickly you have forgotten our agreement, Elena Verity Cunnington." He steepled his fingers and watched me over them. I was sure it was a posture that had led many a black arts practitioner to second guess their life choices. "Unless you are willing to concede?" That eyebrow quirked again and my heart nearly leapt out of my chest.

The voices saying run turned to screams. I listened. "I concede." I upended my glass to finish the last and then rose to my feet. "Feel free to keep the bag. I'll ship the outfit to you." Turning on my borrowed heel, I strode for the door, adrenaline roaring in my blood.

Now that the sun had set, it had cooled enough that I was glad for the wrap. Taking in deep lungfuls of fresh air not fragrant with musk, I chose one direction and started walking. Unfortunately, the blocks here weren't in a tidy grid that lent itself to losing him in the number of possible branchings like I had in Atlantic City, not that these heels exactly gave me that option and my days of hiding in bushes were far behind me. Needless to say I was less than surprised when the soft scuffs of leather soles echoed behind me. I kept walking, even when his smell wafted to me on the breeze.

"You have no money, no identification, and unless you have spontaneously developed the knowledge of jumping lines, you are stranded." _Damn that smug bastard and his gorgeous accent_.

"In case you haven't been listening for the past hour, which I won't write off as a possibility seeing as you're male, I've done more with less." The palm trees overhead swished as they swayed overhead. _Just another night in paradise_ , I thought bitterly.

"If you would stop being so mule-headed, I will take you home," growled Al. His long strides shortened to match mine, made even shorter due to the shoes and the wine. Not that I was drunk, but I was at that stage were lips are loosened, and I had already shared enough.

"Which one? I have so many hidey holes. Did you mean Cincinnati? Or were you thinking of your own?" I asked sarcastically. The wind off the water blew my hair into my face and raised goosebumps until I wrapped the pashmina tighter.

"I am not that demon anymore," he snarled and grabbed my arm, spinning me back to him. I stumbled and his other hand rose to catch me. "Unless you want me to be." Too white teeth shone in the streetlight in a slight snarl.

"Stop it, Al," I sighed, folding my arms and looking down at our white and black shoes. If only everything could be that simple. "Why are you even doing this?"

He let go of my biceps and took two measured steps back. "A deal was made," he answered, folding his arms behind his back. The salt-laden air tousled his curls to soften the hard lines of his face, and heaven help me, I wanted to brush my hand through them.

"The old rules don't apply any more, you could have walked away from this at any point. Whatever you're getting out of this, and it can't be money, because it's not worth this much hassle." I gestured to encompass the outfit, the restaurant behind us, and the beach. The sound of the waves crashing was soothing and I wanted to be irritated. "Especially when at any point you could, how did you put it, 'grab me by the scruff of the neck and drag me wherever the hell you wanted to'?"

"You don't believe you are worth saving." Red goat-slitted eyes widened in sudden surprise.

"What?" I blinked.

"You are clever enough to know that the final course of treatment could be done anywhere, if you were not ready to return to Cincinnati." He dropped his arms to his sides and he took half a step towards me, head cocked to the side as if seeing me for the first time. My heart broke into a gallop again and the need to run pounded in my throat again. "You ran because you don't think your life is worth saving."

"Why do you care?" I turned my face away only to get a mouthful of hair and a nose full of musk as the wind changed direction. The waxing gibbous moon shone down on us too brightly for my comfort, but it was better than the headlights that passed, throwing us into stark relief.

One large hand, warm and slightly rough, took my chin to turn my head back towards him. I hadn't even heard him move. Fear twined with lust slithered through me. Not fear of him, but fear now that my carefully built walls were softening. With a supreme force of effort, I swallowed those emotions back and met those eyes that I would give everything from my last take for the ability to read. The chatty demon was unnaturally quiet, for which I was eternally grateful.

"I like a challenge," he smiled softly. Letting me go, he walked forward a few feet before turning back to see if I would follow. And damn me but I did.

We walked for a time in silence filled with the susurrations of the trees and sea. While it was not comfortable, it was not intolerable either. He came to a stop and I paused beside him, displaying on my face the question I had.

"This is me," he said with an elegant sweep of his arm.

The lights were already on in the exceedingly modern three story house set back into the hillside. It was impressive, as were all the ones we had passed, so it didn't appear out of place for the neighbourhood. I wasn't sure what I had envisioned, I suppose expecting blood circles on the front lawn would be a tad racist, if not downright hypocritical.

"You can collect your things and I will take you wherever you wish to go," offered Al, hands in his pockets and eyeing a patch rue at the end of the driveway. While he wasn't pressuring me into anything, except for a potentially life-saving treatment, I was still reminded of the spider and the fly.

At a loss for anything else, I said, "Thank you."

He gestured for me to precede him up the terraced steps to the front door, which was slightly recessed so as too not interfere with the view afforded by the expanse of glass that served as the westernmost wall. By the afternoon, the whole place would be full of sunlight.

At the top of the stairs, Al stepped in front of me to deactivate the wards before opening the door for me. It opened onto a tile mosaic that swirled in every shade of blue, green, and everything in between, inviting one further into the house. _Come into my parlour_.

I sat on a low bench to the left side of the foyer to remove the torturous shoes. An artisanal piece, it looked to have been made from bleached driftwood. Across from me, a short hallway led to the back of the house. On the wall above my head was a mural of sorts. Fractured pieces of mirror, both plain and coloured in reds and oranges, formed a huge spiral galaxy, the arms curving around the walls. I must have been staring at the kaleidoscope of shapes, colours, and textures because Al cleared his throat and asked, "Would you like something to drink?"

"Um, please, water? Thank you." _Smooth. Very eloquent_. Other than a glass' worth at dinner, I hadn't had any since long before the job. Stopping to pee kind of puts a hitch the plans and tends to leave evidence.

Removing his jacket, he walked down a short hallway and dropped the garment on a kitchen chair that I could just barely see. As soon as his back was turned, I stripped off the nylons and shoved them in the toe of one the heels. _Itchy, uncomfortable things_ , I grumbled to myself, taking the opportunity to quickly scratch a few places. Granted, I had been grateful for the coverage they had provided, but now there was no need.

The kitchen was impressive with a gleaming gas stove, and sleek cabinetry with under lighting that didn't distract from the marble countertops and hardwood flooring. A tile backsplash echoed the entryway mosaic. It was the living room that pulled me off-track. The rest of the forward half of the floor was open area, the hardwood continuing without interruption. No lamps were on in this room, so there was nothing but a sheet of glass between me and the moon crested waves as far as the eye could see.

It took a moment before I became aware of my host standing next to me. "Nice view," I said, accepting the offered glass. _And the understatement award of the year goes to_ … I rolled my eyes at myself as I drank.

"After spending so much time underground I prefer open spaces, real ones. Illusions made it bearable, but it can't compare. Knowing that it's a mirage tends to detract from any comfort." I couldn't understand how he could speak of his past with such detachment. Maybe one day I could achieve that same level of outward coolness. After a couple thousand years of practice.

"Most of my safe houses are just basement apartments, maybe a tiny window or two. While it's nowhere near the same, I do understand claustrophobia." It was a pathetic attempt at sympathy.

He had rolled up his shirt sleeves over dark, sinewy forearms. Feet spread wide, his slacks were taut across a firm butt. That insidious musk and sun drenched cedar filled the house, naturally, and I found myself breathe deeply to pull it deeper into me. _No mooning over the pretentious peacock! Get your stuff and ask him to take you to Seattle!_ I scolded myself. Instead, what came out was, "Where do you do your spelling?"

"Upstairs, only the part directly above here and the kitchen is wired and plumbed," he answered, running a hand through his curls. "Would you like to see?" Not trusting myself to speak, I nodded.

The seed of envy that had been planted when I set foot in the door sprouted at the sight of his spellroom. It sat directly on the bedrock of the cliff side. The only point of weakness was the sink at the front wall, but the main working areas and circle etched in the floor were well away from it. A circular fire pit ringed by benches dominated the center of the room, venting through the ceiling, which was capped by a glass dome.

My green-eyed monster wasn't born of coveting the fine house, but rather that it was a proper home and not a studio apartment or glorified storeroom. Here he didn't have to work from inside a bubble, cramped to ensure its security. Although he appeared to live alone, he had made it into a home, not a crash space, despite the lifestyle of an actor. And this was the heart of it. What was more, he said nothing, just lighting a few candles and permitting me to explore as my whim dictated.

* * *

She was limping and attempting to hide it. I frowned. I should have picked different shoes, choosing those because I knew they would make her shapely legs, and other aspects, look fantastic. I was right, as I usually was in most areas. But she preferred to not draw undue attention, it was how she worked and lived. So four inch heels were probably not a staple in her closet. As long as her pride made her disguise it, I would pretend to not see.

At some point she had doffed the stockings and her feet were noiseless on the flagstones. Watching her explore my sanctum made me feel even more naked than I had all night, which was quite a feat. Silently, she took in everything, fingers trailing across the texture of the marble counter, wood and leather of the benches, the copper pots, everything that was safe to touch without contamination from her aura. I wondered if she realized she was leaving her spicy scent everywhere she went and it was slowly driving me mad.

No one other than Rachel and her family had been in my spelling kitchen and it felt strange. Particularly since I made great efforts to publicly downplay what I was truly capable of. I had become the first demon in Hollywood partly as a public relations move for our kind. It's difficult to be afraid of someone you see getting eaten by a Tyrannosaurus Rex on the big screen or in the worst dressed section of the tabloids. I still believe that, that silver suit was undeserving of that condemnation.

She sat down on the bench to get a closer look at a crucible sitting on the raised stone hearth. For something to do with my hands, or rather something other than what I wanted to do with them, I set about starting a small fire. The heat was already on since I had activated it, and the lights, via my phone while leaving the restaurant, but it had not yet risen to this room. I adored modern technology. From the corner of my eye as I puttered, I watched her tuck her feet up under herself and lean back to admire the night sky above. The candles made her skin practically glow against the contrast of the dress.

I was afraid to move lest I startle her, so I remained sitting sideways on the hearth with one elbow on a knee drawn up. The stone quickly sapped the heat from me, but perhaps that was a good thing. Those deep brown eyes reflected the growing flames and my breath caught in my throat as they briefly flared red from it. _Red, slitted eyes would suit her,_ I thought before I managed to stifle it. Only the faint crackling of the fire filled the air between us for several long moments before I had to break it lest I become overwhelmed by her.

"You were mistaken in that I don't see you as a hero. I see you as someone desperately seeking redemption. I should know," I said ruefully. "While the chances of relapse are slim, what good would your death do anyone? Death is not redemption, it's simply an end on the road to it."

"How did you find yours?" she whispered sadly, still watching the moon above, unable to look at me. While I should have expected the question, it still caught me off-guard. Falling back on old habits, I went to adjust my cuffs while considering how to respond, only to remember that my wrists were naked. She deserved- no, needed- the truth. But first I had to be honest with myself.

"I have not yet," I answered finally. "I don't know if I ever will balance out five thousand years of darkness. But what would be the point if I don't make an attempt?"

It had been years since anyone had stirred my blood like this little witch and I wanted to drink all of her in. Instead, I forced myself to release her gently so she would not misinterpret the reassertion of my self-control as rejection or a manipulation tactic. Not even I could rightly say why I had kissed her. All I knew was that I could not bear to see her in pain. And the mere thought was enough to scare the Big Bad Wolf.


	9. Chapter 9

My heart threatened to burst from my chest. While my history was but a fraction of his, I understood the depths to which one could sink when all hope had died. I couldn't even begin to fathom the enormity of his darkness, but I could understand him. Which meant he understood me because I was a fool and opened the freaking door for him. And the thought made my blood run cold.

I stood to edge closer to the fire, but farther from him. My skin pebbled all over and the soft fabric of the skirt felt strangely sensual on my suddenly sensitive legs. As if sensing my wish for distance, he moved to the seating area and propped his feet up on the hearth, crossed at the ankles. His shirt was drawn tight across his chest as he rested his arms on the back on the bench.

God, I was dying to know if he looked as good out of a suit as he did in one. _Stop that! Think of cold showers!_ I wrapped my arms around myself, frantically trying to organize my thoughts. Predictably, anger rose to the forefront. "If this was just a trick to get the job done, or some disgusting ploy to perpetuate the species…" I began, pitching my voice low so it wouldn't break.

"I will not play that role, Kyra, not even for you." His deep voice rumbled over me like thunder. I could almost say that he sounded hurt. If he weren't a consummate actor and we weren't in a city full of professional liars. But I wanted to believe the lies.

I turned to regard him and the way the way every part of him was a carefully cultivated mask. While I couldn't trust the packaging, as yummy as it was, his actions I could. As much as he had infuriated me, I felt a strange kinship that I never had with any witch. One eyebrow quirked at my stare, the only indication of what was flashing through his mind. All traces of the offense that had just been there were washed away in his current wariness. If he was unsettled by me standing over him with my arms folded, he gave no sign.

The firelight flickered over his long form and I wanted to tear away the façade to see the man underneath. Giving the dress a little hitch, I swung one leg over him so I straddled his lap. The disguise did crumble as his expression softened into surprise. We silently watched each other, waiting to see what the other would do.

One arm slipped around my waist and the other buried a hand in my hair. In return I grabbed one fistful of tousled curls and the other gripped the back of his neck. I was tempted to force him back with the latter when he broke the seal of our lips. It was only the memory of being on the receiving end of forced intimacy that kept me still. Instead I took the chance to catch my breath and grip his solid shoulders, otherwise I suspected I might have fallen over.

"If you still want, I will take you home." There was a slight hesitancy in his husky voice, as though he fervently hoped that I would say no, but afraid that I would.

"Shut up and kiss me." The passion with which he obeyed was dizzying. Unbidden, my fingers were deftly unbuttoning his shirt, eliciting a growl from him that reverberated through me to settle between my legs.

His grip shifted to cup my backside and he stood. Yelping, I squeezed my legs around his hips and threw my arms around him. The mischievous glint in his eyes had fanned into fire and he gave a low chuckle at my surprise. Moving by memory, he carried me to the hallway while nuzzling my neck, carefully avoiding the old vamp scars. Merely the whisper of his warm breath across the sensitive skin made me melt against him.

"I can walk," I complained, regaining enough will to pull my head back. The attempt at mock irritation was barely more than a murmur.

"And if I don't want to let you go?" he grinned slyly.

"Oh," I blinked.

His deep laugh filled the air as he nudged open a door with his foot. Once inside, he did set me down slowly to make sure I had my feet under me, which was good because my legs felt as strong as cooked spaghetti. It was his bedroom. The front wall of windows faced the ocean and continued up to create an angled pane that ran the length of the ceiling. The growing moon overhead, its silver spilling over the room, would follow the path of her sibling along that row of glass.

"Don't," I said when he reached for a lightswitch. "There's enough light for me and this is beautiful," I clarified and his puzzlement softened into a smile.

"As are you," he said, coming slowly closer as though he were trying to restrain himself. It was the same way vampires acted when they fought their instincts. Yet the comparison wasn't horrifying, sending me running. It just was.

"I'll bet you say that to all the girls you bring home," I laughed, hand on one hip, and tossing my hair back from my face.

"It has been a very long time since I have had a demoness in my bed," he said quietly with one hand on my cheek and ghosts in his red eyes. Not sure what else to say or do, I slid my arms between his shirt and skin to embrace him. Pressing my face against his chest, I breathed him in as he held me.

After a moment, my hair slithered over my shoulder when he drew it aside to access the hidden zipper at the nape of my neck. The slight brush of his fingers there made the room spin and I leaned into him, trembling as the heat in my middle exploded into a blaze. Goosebumps spread as he slid the lace, black in the moonlight, down my shoulders. If it weren't for hand sliding down my back, close behind the falling dress, I would have puddled on the floor along with the fabric. Gasping lightly, I tugged his shirt from his pants.

Working my bra clasp, he walked me backwards towards the bed. He slid the garment from me without letting up his supportive grip. The world tilted as he picked me up and tossed me on the bed. Not hard, just enough so I bounced once before sinking into the thick comforter.

Still standing, he shrugged out of his shirt, making his shoulders and muscles ripple in delicious ways. I laid there naked, arms flung above my head from when I'd landed and every physical scar on display, and for once I didn't feel the need to hide any aspect of myself. I had already bared my ugliness and he still thought I was beautiful if that hungry look was any indication.

"And what is going through your mind, my little witch?" he purred, placing one knee between mine and bracing his forearms on either side of my head. That cultured voice, the possessive inflection he put on the nickname he had given me, coiled around me like a caress. My nipples were so hard that when they brushed his chest, I momentarily lost the ability to speak as icy fire shot from them to the inferno at my center.

When I could focus again, I struggled not to pant. "Um, I've never been with a ley line user." _Weres, humans, lots of vampires, yes…_ I thought. But most witches were too scared to touch a demon, and from the stories I had heard about what could happen, I understood why.

"Aah." He nuzzled my ear and I dug my hands into the ridges of muscle along his shoulders, trying to pull him closer, but he resisted as easily as if I were a scarf dangling from him. "There will be time for _that_ later, but in the meantime…" One finger traced up the line of my inner thigh, arcing with ley line imbalances that sparked through me and had my veins singing.

Unable to take any more, I blindly fumbled for his belt buckle. He gave a throaty chuckle, taking my wrists in one hand and pinning them above my head. "Patience," he admonished before lowering his lips to my breast. Sucking the nipple until it was even harder before gently biting down. Panting turned to gasping turned to moaning. My hips rose of their own volition, seeking him.

He lowered himself to press me to the bed with his weight as he continued the treatment on my other nipple. All I could do was arch under his ministrations, whimpering, bringing my chest closer to his hot mouth. One hand trailed more tingles along the sensitive underside of my arm and I nearly screamed at the sensation.

"A little line imbalance has you this hot?" he murmured into my ear and I blushed until I probably glowed as red as his eyes. "Just imagine when I slip a line into you so slowly that the sweet ecstasy borders on pain." The promise in his voice sent a sharp ache through me.

Frantic with need I pressed my mouth to his and thrust my tongue, just to pull back enough to drag my teeth across his bottom lip when he fought for dominance in the kiss. Rough fingers dipped between my panties and the curve of my stomach. I raised my hips to help him. Lace edged satin glided down my legs as he drew them down and off. Suddenly cold without his overwhelming heat over me, I shivered.

When I sat up to help him with his pants, he possessively tangled a fist in my hair and raised me up to kiss him while he managed to finish undressing one-handed. Never breaking our contact, he laid me back down, the proof of his need pushing into my thigh. Stopping for air, I met his burning gaze and shifted so that he pressed against my core.

He watched my face intently as he pierced me, so he saw the little gasp and my eyes flutter shut. Then he paused at the wince as I adjusted to his size. Good God, he was big. I am not at all ashamed to admit that I actually whimpered from the delicious pain. When I managed to finally relax, he slowly eased deeper. Once I'd adapted, his self-control was torture. So I wrapped my legs around his back and pulled my hips up to meet his, drawing an animalistic noise from him.

Just as carefully as he'd entered, he withdrew and fever overwhelmed me. I squeezed him as tightly as I could with my thighs to keep us joined while I clawed at his shoulders, I couldn't wrap my arms around them from this position, till they became slick with traces blood. That deep chuckle that had been eliciting such visceral responses from me was amplified as he thrust home.

We groaned in unison as we moved together in the oldest dance, his growls and my moans merging in a duet to provide the music. My eyes closed as I lost myself in the pleasure, flickering open occasionally to catch glimpses of his red eyes before my own rolled back in my head. It was exceedingly rare whenever I had managed to orgasm before, let alone with a new partner, but it didn't mean that the trip wasn't enjoyable.

Our steady rhythm became frenzied as he approached his peak. My recalcitrant body wasn't cooperating, so I was almost disappointed. That was before I felt a strange surge at our connection, almost like drawing on a line, but not quite. Instead of immediately infusing me, it grew into my own waves of climax, washing away the ability to think or any sense of self. As I arched and screamed, my nails dug furrows into his back as the world dropped away in a cascade of sparkles that fell into darkness.

* * *

A river of dark chocolate hair streaked with cinnamon spilled over the forest green pillow. That and her face were the only part of her visible from the cocoon that she had made of most of the covers. She also snored. Not chainsaws to wake the undead. Little whistling sighs with a slight hitch now and again. Mascara, dark circles, eyeliner and shadow gave her raccoon eyes and her lips were mostly bare of lipstick since what hadn't been kissed off had migrated to her cheeks and chin.

Kyra had quickly fallen asleep, although passed out may have been a more appropriate term. But it had taken her some time to release me. Silly witches believed that little anatomical trait was to enhance pleasure. While it certainly did at that, it was actually to increase the chances of impregnation in a species that was particularly fecund to begin with. Which meant that I had to stir up a curse I hadn't used in a very long time.

Evidently it had been awhile for her as well. Or I was that good. Probably both. I might have cheated a little when I realized that she wasn't going to climax, some demonesses had problems achieving that without energy being involved, and she seemed to be one of them. I was just glad that I had soundproofed the house. We could have woken the undead otherwise. If she saw the self-satisfied grin on my face she'd probably slap me.

As in other areas, she was a mix of contradictions, being erotic and experienced. Yet when it came to what a ley line practitioner, let alone a demon, could do, she was charmingly naïve. Imagining her responses when I drew a line through her made my mouth go dry. A growl rumbled through me at the thoughts of what else I wanted to do to her. To my utter astonishment, she squirmed a little closer like a giant green caterpillar with dark tufts of fur. She nuzzled her head against my chest with a little sigh before resuming snoring. But when I stroked her hair she gave a frightened whimper. Earlier in the night she had flailed and panicked in her sleep whenever I got too close. Even when I stayed on my side of the bed she had nightmares, only calming when I spoke soothingly to her.

She wasn't likely to wake soon, her circadian rhythm being off due to skipping back and forth between three different time zones in the past week. I suspected that the erratic movements were to throw me off her trail. And for the most part, the trick had worked. Until I researched more of her past as per Rachel's suggestion. A trip to some old "clients" of mine turned up the one who had sold her the intelligence on the blood farm. Then it was merely a matter of watching and waiting.

The mixture of our mingled scents and the memory of her sensuality last night made me want to kiss her awake to ravish her again. But I knew to let sleeping demons lie. As much as I wanted her again, she might not take it too well considering whatever it was that still tormented her in her dreams. If I remained in bed, staring at her, the temptation would be too great.

Easing off of the mattress, I headed for the shower. _I'll make pancakes,_ I thought. I can make those without creating a disaster, or at least Rachel's kids thought so. _They're a type of cake, right?_


	10. Chapter 10

Three thoughts hit me in rapid succession when consciousness returned. One, I had to pee. Two, where am I? Three was really just several expletives strung together. Clutching the covers to my chest, I sat bolt upright. The other side of the bed was empty. Good, that will make the walk of shame slightly less embarrassing.

No sign of my bag, or my clothes, not even the dress from last night. If need be, I'd raid his closet because I'd walk out of there barefoot and in sweats. If he even owned a pair. If he had anything, it would be a gold lamé tracksuit.

A smoke grey silk robe lay neatly at the foot of the bed. Not wanting to wander around naked, I put it on. The hem fell to my feet and I could practically wrap it around again. Obviously it was his, and permeated with his scent, settling into my lungs and relaxing me. Damn, demons must be as bad as vampires when it came to pheromones. Hopefully they don't think the same way about mixing scents. At least it wasn't some other woman's or one he kept on hand for his fling of the week.

Clothing, check. Now for a more pressing matter. The best candidate for the bathroom seemed to be a doorway off to one side. I wasn't disappointed. Far from it. The walk-in shower could fit four people comfortably with shower nozzles mounted at several different angles in the walls. I half expected it to feel like being in a carwash, but the pressure was set to non-blasting. Next time I'd have to try the giant cobalt bathtub set underneath the window facing the ocean. _No, no next time!_ I mentally slapped myself.

I borrowed his comb, which I meticulously cleaned of hair afterwards and flushed the strands down the low flow toilet. There was a new toothbrush, still in its package, waiting for me. When I was done with my teeth, I burned all DNA traces with a quick curse before tossing it in the trashcan. Not for the first time I wondered what it would be like to not worry about leaving potential focusing objects behind.

Looting his closet was a last resort, so there was no viable option but to put the robe back on while hunting for my things. I girded it like armour and drew up battle plans in my head, weighing the pros and cons of 'borrowing' any car that might be in the garage. Any hope for a hasty exit died with the smell of cooking that wafted in when I opened the bedroom door. It seemed that the chances of getting my gear and getting away clean were equal to a snowball's in the proverbial hell. My need to run flared high.

Steeling myself, I crept downstairs and into the kitchen. His back was to me as he worked at the stove. _Good Lord, is he singing "Brown Eyed Girl?"_ The original version, too, with the line "making love in the green grass." My cheeks grew warm, thinking of the colour of my eyes and his green sheets. Like the man, his voice was rich, complex and beautiful. I leaned against a corner cabinet with my arms folded, listening appreciatively, but with an amused smirk plastered on my face.

When he finally turned around to flip the pancake onto a plate, he froze momentarily before clearing his throat and switching off the stove. He hastily removed the apron he wore, but I caught a glimpse of the design: a little red devil roasting marshmallows on his pitchfork. Maybe it was just my imagination, but his ears looked pinker than usual.

"Good morning, little witch. I was beginning to wonder whether last night's wine was too much for you." _And there's the attempt to save face for catching him at kitchen karaoke,_ I thought with a smile.

"I rarely sleep much the night before a job," I said by way of an excuse and climbed onto the tall chair at the island's counter where two glasses of orange juice and sets of silverware already were. Al set the plate with the fresh pancake in front of me. "Um, do you have any peanut butter?" I asked, tucking my hair behind an ear.

"Peanut butter?" his dark brow furrowed.

"When I was a kid, my dad couldn't cook worth beans. So he put peanut butter on pancakes, French toast, waffles, anything to try and hide the burned taste. It's still the only way I'll eat them." My face flamed and I stared at the swirls in the marble. Suddenly realizing I was swinging my feet like a child because only the tips of my toes could reach the crossbrace, I forced myself to wrap them around the legs to keep them still. A jar of chunky natural peanut butter, still cold from the fridge, was set down next to me.

"Thank you," I murmured, still embarrassed as I slathered the pancake. _God, this is so weird_.

I caught glimpses of him out of the corner of my eye. His clean curls, the colour of newly brewed coffee, gleamed in the midday sun. He looked good in crisp, charcoal slacks and a steel blue linen chambray shirt. Then again, he could probably pull off just about anything. All that and he could cook, too. Or at least enough to not ruin pancakes. Watching him and flickers of last night, to say nothing of his scent, made me acutely aware that I wasn't wearing any underwear and the robe was very thin.

_And this is why you don't go home with random men!_ I berated myself. _You start thinking, hey, this is nice. But work gets in the way, or they run screaming when they find you're a demon, a thief, or both. Not to mention you can't keep the normalcy act together long enough_. The ones who didn't care about any of that usually weren't relationship material. Not like I was, either. But anyone I had anything in common with was bad news.

* * *

Truthfully, I had been a bit offended when she had made the request, thinking that my cooking was subpar. I knew that reference was correct, having learned to golf with Rachel and Trenton. But when she looked so forlorn and embarrassed I couldn't refuse. Hell, I had wanted to hug her so tightly that every piece someone had broken inside of her was melded back into place. Not that she seemed likely to accept comfort this morning. Rather, she looked like a skittish deer, ready to bolt from the Big Bad Wolf.

Then again, I supposed that neither of us were accustomed to spending the next morning with our partners. I doubted that any of the models and actresses who had graced my bed would have eaten pancakes, even if I would have cooked for them. And certainly not covered in peanut butter and drenched in half a tree's worth of maple syrup.

Even though she was a walking paradox of a hot mess, she was not using me to further her career, nor the kinky thrill of doing it with a demon. On the contrary, she seemed to be more afraid of me taking advantage of her. And there had been a time not too long ago where that fear would have been very much justified.

She was absent-mindedly swinging her feet again, the long toes barely brushing the crossbar. I tried to hide my grin. In stark contrast to the innocent behaviour, her breasts bounced slightly with the motion. And the robe, like liquid smoke, left nothing to the imagination.

The need for my species to survive warred with common decency. It was still odd to discover that I had any, especially after years in Hollywood. Only the thought of her running, or worse, finally settled the debate. Stifling a sigh, I pulled the potion I had placed, not hidden, in a cupboard earlier and set it in front of her.

Wide puzzled eyes took in the bottle then rose to my face. Her feet had stopped swinging and were probably hooked around the chair legs as if holding on for dear life again. My ears were hot again. I cleared my throat and adjusted my rolled up cuffs before meeting her gaze. "This is a contraception curse."

Her wide mouth formed a perfect "O" as realization and then a furious blush swept over her. I would be hard-pressed to name who looked away first. I gripped the cool marble countertop and leaned, not sagged, into the stance. She tightened the sash until I thought bruises would ring her waist.

"It's already invoked," I said more to the stone than to her. And in true witch-turned-demoness fashion, she leapt to an incorrect conclusion.

"Keep these in stock for all your flings?" she sneered and folded her arms under her bosom. Fury flared too high for me to appreciate the effect of the posture.

I spun and began flinging open cabinets and drawers. "Does it appear that I maintain a ready stock of contraception at hand, never mind demon-specific ones?" I demanded, yanking a drawer from its sliders to send silverware flying all over the floor in a metallic cacophony. She suppressed a flinch as I threw the drawer past her head to land in the living room. She had not moved a muscle save for that twitch of her face, now red from anger instead of embarrassment, remaining utterly still. It was a survival tactic developed by the abused in an attempt to not provide an excuse for the abuse to continue, and hope that the abuser would forget about them. I should know. I had ingrained that behaviour in countless slaves and familiars.

"I have so very many demonesses falling into my arms that I can barely supply the demand!" I threw a knife to land with a thunk in a cabinet.

"Just give me my things and I will go." Her normally alto voice was low and tight with control.

"Your bag is on the couch," I gestured and turned away, suddenly weary.

Silk the colour of her voice rustled faintly as she went to retrieve her clothes and as soon as possible escape the Big Bad Wolf I had just proven myself to be. The slight rasp of denim on skin pulled me around in surprise. I had expected her to retreat upstairs to change. Instead, she was tugging on her jeans under the robe in the middle of the living room, not bothering with underwear. The evidence was plain on the back of the silk of how the pheromones I had been emitting while throwing my fit had affected her.

"Wait," I said.


	11. Chapter 11

When he returned, he had my bra and panties and handed them over without looking at me. They were warm and smelled of detergent. _He washed them?_ "Thank you," I said, standing there awkwardly with my jeans hanging off my hips, a borrowed robe that was too big, and a fistful of red satin and lace. "I'll just, um…" I motioned towards the stairs with the undergarments, scooped up the dropped shirt, and ran to take the stairs two at a time with one hand clutching at my pants with one hand to keep them from falling down around my ankles.

I locked myself in the bathroom to finish getting dressed. And evidently another shower, cold this time, was in order. I settled for a cold washcloth. Damn demon pheromones _were_ as bad as vampires! But he'd been pissed off around me before and it hadn't affected me this way. Something must've changed, and I had a sinking suspicion I knew what had triggered it. Finally, in my own clothes it was easier to remember who I was. Which was a stupid, stupid demon-witch.

Not ready to face what was downstairs, I sat on the toilet lid and admired my ability to pick out the psycho ones. Who was I kidding, they were all like that, especially if the sex was good. Deciding I'd avoided the unavoidable long enough, I dropped the robe in a wicker laundry basket under what looked rather like a medicine cabinet. Towels, toilet paper, a few extra toiletries… Well, that explained the spare toothbrush. And absolutely no curses of any kind.

Naturally, he was waiting when I came back down. _God, I can't do this,_ I mentally groaned. He smelled so good that I wanted to shove him onto that couch and… And that was the problem.

Feet wide, he turned with my boots in his hand. He cleared his throat as I snagged up my bag. The slippery catsuit fell out and I muttered four letter words, bending to snatch it up. "Kyra." He said my name like a cross between a caress and an apology, but his face was closed to me. I had heard it too many times before.

"Give me my boots," I snarled, holding out my hand.

"Fine." He tossed them on the loveseat closest to me and threw his hands in the air. I grabbed them and strode, not ran, towards the door. "But don't come crying to me when you're knocked up!" he yelled at my back.

"I'll be fine," I shot back through clenched teeth. _I'm fine as long as I'm alone._ _If guys are like this, then why would anyone ever want one?_

"Demons are not the same as witches, Kyra," his rich voice called out. I froze. A piece of ice slithered down my spine.

 _Oh bloody hell, I'm going to regret this_. "What do you mean by that?" I asked over one shoulder.

"Over the counter charms won't work the same way." Now he just sounded resigned. If he really knew what he was doing, he'd be trying to woo me back to forgive him his outburst.

"And why not?" I didn't dare turn around now.

He said snidely, "Well when a daddy demon and a mommy demon…"

Howling, I spun and flung the boots, one after the other, at his head. His face went slack in shock for a fraction of an instant before dodging. Then I threw the backpack for good measure, which did smack uselessly into his chest.

"Look, you pretentious preening peacock!" I screamed, stalking towards him. I connected to the line a few blocks over and was spindling energy until I must have glowed. "I get that you're over a hundred times older than I am." I flung a curse at him, which he easily deflected. "I know you're a big shot actor and I'm just another notch on your bedpost." His face grew dark and those soft curls moved in a gentle breeze as he tapped the line.

"And yeah, you could squish me into raspberry jelly without even thinking about it." I flung another and he ducked behind the couch. "But you don't get to be a condescending asshole!" I circled wide around the furniture, keeping my back to the wall. "It may have escaped your notice, Mr. High and Mighty, but there isn't exactly a sex ed course for demons!" He had moved from behind the couch and now had no idea where he was. I threw a fireball at the window, which fell with a particularly loud crash. He didn't give away his position at the noise like I wanted.

"Because if there was, I sure as freaking hell would never have screwed you and ended up bound, or whatever the hell the demon version is, to your lame ass!" The last thing I remember was being enveloped in strong, musk-scented arms and a rich British accent whispering Latin in my ear.

* * *

Mother pus bucket. I frowned at the wreckage that had been my living room. At least the broken window was airing out the stench of the melting couch. _She thought that the pheromones mixing was like vampiric binding? No wonder she lost it._ I had thought that a couple of her scars looked suspiciously like vampire bites before she covered them. It was going to be worse when she woke up, and we would be right back where we started.

There was always the zip strip. She would do her best to kill me with her bare hands, but she would be easily subdued until some sense could be talked into her. And once the strip came off, she would still kill me first chance she got.

Rachel was going to laugh. Then she would have my hide for a fireside rug for mishandling the situation. At least one could always assume she was mad, in both senses of the word. However, with this tiny witch, she only fought when surrounded. The only issue was in knowing when she felt cornered.

With all the excitement over the revival of our species, few of us had fully comprehended the ramifications of trying to teach them what it meant to actually be a demon. Even less how to be a demon under the sun. And like some crap for brains idiot I allowed my pride and lust to destroy any possible ties she might have had to her own kind.

As I began cleaning up the mess, I wondered what to do with her. That is to say, what to do to prevent her from going for my throat when she woke up. Spells were out of the question. She would see them as the manipulation that they were. While tying her up presented many delicious fantasies, it wouldn't last long and then she would be even more furious than before.

I even entertained the notion of going to Rachel for help as she had done to me so many times, but with Kyra there was no assurance that she wouldn't have an even more adverse reaction to the redhead. Yet my hubris would not allow me to call her up.

The only solution I could conceive was to use the pheromones to calm her down. Vampires were created from demons, so their hormonal composition was comparable to our own, albeit more specialized in some ways. While I could not bind her using the same methods, my pheromones would subconsciously calm her.

 _I hope this works as well as it used to with Celfnnah,_ I thought as I took her in my arms. Her head lolled against my chest where it would hurt less when she would inevitably try to bash backwards. While teaching Rachel, I in turn had learned a fair bit myself. I locked my legs at the ankles around hers and crossed her arms to take her wrists at her shoulders in my hands.


	12. Chapter 12

I woke to the smell of warm cedar and warm arms holding me tight. I started to breathe deeply to take in the scent. When my brain processed what it was, who it was, I froze.

"Kyra, let me explain." Soft lips practically dripped the honeyed words into my ear and I wanted to sink back into him. Giant red alarms went off in my head.

"Get off of me or I'll rip off your nuts and use them as hood ornaments!" I struggled, but it was like being trapped in bands of iron. And damned if that didn't turn me on. Snarling, I tapped the line.

"Don't, Kyra," Al warned darkly. His breath hissed as I dumped the raging torrent into him. Just at the point I thought he would explode, he pushed it back into me. My barriers fell like tissue paper at the exquisite rush that filled me, tasting of his unique signature, and washed the world away in a cascade of gold sparkles.

After what seemed an eternity, I became aware of a large warm hand stroking my hair. His firm body now cradled instead of imprisoned me. "I'm sorry," he breathed into my ear. I couldn't fight the shudder that rippled through me. I wanted to sit up, but my muscles were too languid to obey.

"Was…" I croaked. Warming, I licked my lips and tried again. "Was that what I think it was?"

"That was just a taste. Foreplay, if you will, but yes." I heard the soft smile in his voice. His hand paused for a moment. "I couldn't let you kill me, but I didn't want to hurt you."

"Was that what I was doing when I tried to fry you back at the warehouse?" I flushed at my naïveté at the time.

His deep chuckle rumbled through me. "Yes. But if you try that much with anyone who isn't a demon, you would fry their little kitty brain. You'd have to be a little more intimate to hurt me that way."

_More intimate than_ that _?!_ "Oh." Strength was returning to my limbs, but not the will to pull away from him. It was the realization of how good he smelled that brought that back. He let me go and I scooted over to sit on the floor across from and against the couch that now had a huge chunk blown out of it.

I still couldn't look at him. I was afraid that if I did I would crawl right back into his arms. And the old but familiar urge made me go cold. In order to fight it, I drew my knees to my chest and rested my folded arms on them.

Finally screwing up the courage, I asked, "Al, did you bind me?" God, my voice sounded weak and frightened even to me. I knew that vampires couldn't bind demons, although when you're pumped full of enough of their saliva that doesn't matter much. Nearly any one of them could crook a finger and you'd come running. But I didn't know about demons binding demons.

"No, it's our pheromones mixing," he answered quietly. "It's particularly strong at the moment because you are ovulating."

"What?" My head snapped around to fix him with a hard stare. His ears were definitely red. _Good_ , I thought. _Let's see how he likes being embarrassed_.

"You know how, ah, certain biological processes are only triggered when witches are together?" The normally confident demon actually turned away from me as if ill at ease.

"Yes," I said through gritted teeth. _He must be able to smell the hormonal shift. Son of a bitch. I am_ never _getting within sniffing distance of another demon again!_

"It is much the same with demons. Last night must have triggered such a reaction." He was adopting a lecturing attitude in order to regain his composure, which was pissing me off. I let my head sink back against the couch. _Two parts pheromones, one part hormones, add one ancient demon, one half of a demoness, and shake until everything explodes_ , I thought sourly.

"Thus the curse-"

"Yeah, I got that part, thanks," I said dryly, still staring at the ceiling. _How did peanut butter get up there?_ Deciding I'd put it off long enough, I got to my feet and shuffled over the bottle still on the island, popped the stopper, and poured it back. In the series of spectacularly bad decisions that had led here, at least this wouldn't be another one.

* * *

"Sorry for all this," she waved at the disaster area and bent down to put on her boots, still not looking at me. "And for trying to kill you."

I blinked in astonishment. No one had apologized for trying to kill me in eons. Well, except for Rachel, but it came with something to the effect of "you deserved it." And most of those times, I had.

"Don't worry about it. I was thinking of redecorating anyway," I shrugged and kicked a scorched throw pillow out the gaping hole to fall to the patio below. _Really, why are they named throw pillows if they aren't meant to be thrown?_ How was I going to explain this to the paparazzi? Or my insurance company for that matter?

The sound of a zipper drew me back around. Two neatly bundled stacks of cash sat on the island counter and Kyra slung her backpack on so that the single strap sat between her creamy breasts, which were tragically hidden under her royal blue sweater.

"You don't have to-"

"Now there's nothing unsettled between us," she cut me off. _She may be a child by our standards, but she knows better than to leave a potential debt unpaid_. "Because whatever you're getting paid to haul me in, it can't be worth all this." She gestured again, but this time she included herself.

"I am not being paid," I frowned.

"Idiot," she snorted and shook her now long sandy hair.

"Kyra," I began, but my usual loquaciousness failed me utterly. "I'm sorry." Somehow that was the wrong thing to say. Her back stiffened further, which I had not thought possible. "Let me take you home."

"Goodbye, Al." The farewell was short, clipped, and final.


	13. Chapter 13

I stared blankly at the blueprints in front of me. The route that I had been plotting out fell away from my thoughts like mist in the sun. With a grunt of frustration, I chucked the pen in my hand across the room. It bounced off the tiny window in the kitchen, the only one in the studio apartment.

Rather than upend the card table with the diagrams, I stood up to pace the three-foot circle etched in the floor. Not for the first time I thought about how I wouldn't do well in prison. Which was where I was going to end up if I blew this job, if I was lucky. Which led to what it must have been like in the old ever after. Which led to me actually kicking the table over. A natural progression, really.

First chance I had, I tried to kill him. A pathetic attempt, like a mouse against a wolf, but an attempt nonetheless. Sighing, I leaned against the fridge to slide down to the floor and wrap an arm around my knees. I plucked a sheet from the papers scattered across the floor. It was a photocopy from an old record of the coven of moral and ethical standards listing some of the deeds of one particular demon.

His name was written at the top in a flourished hand. Algaliarept. Once more I rolled the name in my head. I didn't dare say it aloud. While I was pretty sure that summoning required more than just the name, I didn't know for certain. Safer not to, despite how my lips seemed to embrace it the same way I held onto a ley line, holding the power in wait.

The list of crimes was lengthy and horrific, which was precisely why I had procured it. Murder: I could hardly cast stones at that one. Black magic: same thing. Theft: see above. Arson, assault, torture. Very few things I hadn't done at some point. Just a lot more of it. Save one: sexual assault. I kept coming back to the word like a tongue to a sore tooth. In my head, conjured scenarios placed the blame at the feet of someone else. He was summoned and had no choice. But it was my hormones trying to justify his past actions and my recent ones.

Even though I knew that night was just a tactic to fulfill his mission, I couldn't see Al as a rapist. And I had known plenty, some who didn't even think of themselves that way. Then again, most people wouldn't see a five foot nothing woman with dimples as a thief.

* * *

_Al, why is the front half of your house blown out?_ Rachel asked, concern threaded through her mental voice.

_Remodeling_ , I answered lightly. _Thought I could save by tearing some things out myself. You should try it some time, it really is quite cathartic. Might I recommend starting with that ludicrous hunting mural, you know the one?_

_Right_. The smirk was loud through our connection. _You're not in trouble, are you, Al?_ The worry returned quickly.

_No more so than usual, itchy witch,_ I answered blithely. I was better than she was at hiding my emotions and deeper thoughts, but she could still be surprisingly perceptive. Sometimes irritatingly so.

_That doesn't answer my question,_ said Rachel suspiciously.

_I'm sorry, you're breaking up. I'm going through a tunnel_ , I said.

_This isn't a cell phone, Al!_ Her annoyance and amusement came through in equal amounts just before I disconnected.


	14. Chapter 14

It was the home of a black witch with a veritable arsenal of nasty items. The client wanted one of them: a set of slaver rings. They would be delivered, but unfortunately were defunct. No more than trinkets, the mark must have kept them for their historical value. Terrible, really, but the original intel from the client had made no indication as to their functionality, and the job acceptance had come with no guarantees. These things happen over a couple thousand years. So sorry.

The place was a metaphysical Fort Knox. I would be going in with just my knife, splat gun, lock picks, rope coiled on my belt, and the usual cosmetic charm to change my appearance slightly. I wasn't even bringing my bag in case I needed to move quickly, so no street clothes. Also less chances of leaving focusing items behind that way.

No street clothes meant no public transit. Cabbies couldn't be trusted long enough to make it to the first vampire flight out to the West Coast, and a bright yellow car wasn't exactly stealthy. So this meant boosting a car since I didn't have one here in Houston.

The fool actually had a state of the art security system, complete with cameras. I'd already bribed the pixies living in the park across the street with a jar of imported gourmet honey to mess with their system in a cascading failure. If all went according to plan, the security team would be split between tracking down the issue and patrolling the perimeters in order to make up for the weakness, thus leaving the interior relatively unprotected.

Two flashes of faint blue sparkles from the bushes edging the park. Go time. Getting a running start, I leapt as high on the stone wall as I could, grabbing the rope that I already had anchored. The moron actually had decorative wrought iron spikes at the top, which were perfect for throwing a slip knot over, as long as the cameras aimed at them weren't working. Crouching over the metal, I retrieved the rope before tumbling to the garden.

The greenery here was small, but not too small for me to hide while waiting for my window of opportunity. A small flash of green over the far wall. Coast is clear for thirty seconds. I sprinted for the house, although 'mansion' was perhaps a better word. I aimed for the low, decorative bushes ringing the foundations and ducked down as low as possible until the approaching footsteps passed. Single guard with a spell detecting amulet and a gun. Don't get caught, don't get dead.

Once he was gone, I broke out the glass of a basement window with a quick kick. At least those were interspersed with the bushes so they weren't hidden from view. I just had to rely on their divided attention to keep it unnoticed. Slipping in through the window, I listened for the sound of patrols on that level. Nothing. I crept from the mechanical room into the short hallway, resisting the urge to cut the phones and power. That would not only alert them that I was there, but where I was.

At the end of the hallway were the stairs leading to the kitchen, and from there, another set to the second floor. I hesitated at the top, the lights were off, save for a small one over the sink. Passing through, I couldn't help but compare it to Al's. While this one was bigger, grander, shinier, his was more casual and sized for one or two people. This kitchen I thought I could get lost in, which was a possibility considering my crash pads tend to have little more than beer fridges and microwaves. _Focus, idiot_.

The second flight of narrow stairs was really more of an access way for staff. It was well lit and had blind corners. I kept my breath shallow and paused every other step to listen, the splat gun sweaty in my grip. My heart nearly stopped when the back door to the kitchen opened and shut. Instead of coming up the stairs, they continued on to the front of the house on their sweep.

A ward served as the door to the display room. Holding my breath, I checked for any other nasty surprises. Nothing on the hallway side at least. Concentrating, stilling even the part of me that was always listening for something coming up from behind, I slowly exerted my will on the sheet of ever after. A moment later and it flashed to my blood and sunlight, allowing me to pass through.

Once I entered, alarms both magical and digital sounded. An honest to god portcullis dropped down behind me. Well, fuck me three ways from Sunday. A trap. It looked like my double dealings had caught up with me. I smashed a display case to grab the rings. They looked so innocuous, but when I shoved them down the neck of my suit they felt cold and slimy as they slipped into my cleavage.

The window at the far end of the room was reinforced, but it should go down with an acid ball. The first one started to eat through, but unless I wanted to squeeze through the small acid lined hole… I was just working on the next one when the footsteps on the stairs became footsteps in the hallway.

Vibrant green goo splattered on the glass, but was not working near as fast as I would have liked. I circled myself just as the iron gate receded to allow the security team to enter. Just as the hole was getting big enough for me to jump through, they opened fire. Though the circle was undrawn, I managed to just barely hold it. My concentration was entirely absorbed with maintaining and left no room for planning, running, or defense. All I could do was crouch on the carpet and flinch with each deafening pop.

They were smart. And good. Only one fired at a time, aiming at an angle that the inevitable ricochet either landed in the ceiling or cracked the window further. Someone took up the onslaught while the other reloaded. Sweat trickled down the back of my neck and harsh gunpowder filled the air till I choked on it. Then more people joined the party. While the gunmen were earth witches, the new arrivals were the ley line witches. Judging by the way they began setting a net to take down my bubble and trap me at the same time.

I thumbed the safety off my splat gun and fired up an energy ball in my off hand. It was my undoing. The fraction of my attention that creating the sphere took was just enough to weaken the circle so that when the next bullet hit my protection dropped. The one who just fired took the crackling orb and his buddy took a sleepy time ball to the chest. As they fell, I ran for the window.

But I wasn't fast enough. Something hit me in my back and sucked the breath out of me. Tendrils of searing pain twined throughout me, like dark tentacles to devour my lifeforce. I hit the floor hard and my only thought was that I was grateful that the carpet was thick, even though I barely registered the impact. My vision was dimming. Not a good sign. The rough pile was warm against my cheek, but I was cold. Feet were coming towards me. "Algaliarept, help," I whispered.

A loud pop of displaced air and the scent of musk sent the tears that had been threatening to spilling over. The heel of a black boot stood inches from my face. A couple of loud thuds shook the floor under me. Strong arms cradled me to a firm chest and the tears flowed in earnest. The last thing I saw were fiery red eyes.

* * *

Seeing her small broken body unleashed a fury in me that I thought I'd left behind in the old ever after. I had ripped into the puny runts to splatter the walls with their blood. My only regret was that I couldn't spare the time to destroy them slowly. Apparently we can't truly change our natures. I was just grateful that she hadn't seen the carnage. The physical damage was readily healed, a bullet had grazed her thigh, without a scar to show for it. But her aura had been stripped away to almost nothing.

"Stupid little witch," I muttered at her ashen face as I picked her up from the floor. She felt too light and cold in my arms.

Simply saying my name wouldn't summon me, but under the right conditions it could catch my attention. Such as if I had a scrying spell tuned to her via a focusing object. She had been careful to not leave any hair behind, and to burn the toothbrush, but in the aftermath her used dishes, silverware, and the robe had been forgotten. I would have to think of a suitably evasive response for when she inevitably asked how I found her. She would not thank me for that invasion of her privacy, not even if it had saved her life.

She was going to need some place to recover. I didn't know any of her safehouses safe the most recent one and that was most likely compromised. My place was currently crawling with construction crews during the day. Rachel's was the best option, but I had promised. Technically I had promised not to take her to Cincinnati until she was ready, and her current state could be construed as ready to go to Trenton's hidden facility for care. Yet she would see it as a violation of trust. There was only one option.

Once we rematerialized in my room, I tucked her into bed and changed her out of her catsuit into a nightgown with a curse. I sank into an armchair and rested my chin on a fist as I wondered what to do with her when she woke, or rather what she would do. She looked even more pallid in the moonlight against the white linens. It was just my luck that the first woman in this bed was an comatose, damaged, temperamental pain in my ass. I contemplated the chances that the pattern of demon-witches costing me my home would continue.

A faint whimper pulled me from my half-asleep reverie. She began to thrash as the nightmares set in. They would be worse without her aura. With a sigh, I changed into green silk pajamas and slipped in beside her. When I wrapped my arms around her, I felt a hard lump under her nightgown on her stomach. Frowning, I carefully reached up under the fabric to find two metal pieces. Air hissed sharply between my clenched as I recognized the vile bands that must have been tucked inside of her spandex bodysuit. I flung them onto the armchair to properly destroy later.

I settled back onto the mattress and cradled her body into mine. She relaxed once my aura enveloped her. While I could not nurture hers in the same way that a female could, it was better than nothing, which was pretty much what she currently had.

I marveled at how well she fit against my chest, the contour of her ass matched my hips, the curve of her waist seemed made for my arms. The silky plait of her hair under my nose filled me with her intoxicating spice. She wriggled into me until every possible inch of us was in contact and relaxed with a contented little mewl. I wanted her very much at that moment, but even though I had just murdered several people in a blind rage before torching the house to destroy any evidence, I was not a monster.

There had been many women, and a few men, over the centuries, but very few of them had ever managed to draw out my better side, if I could be said to have one, whilst simultaneously provoking such lust. If she knew of the rising hunger I felt, she would run. And yet if it were purely physical, then why did I want to protect her? She just looked so vulnerable that the instinct arose. Although she would likely stab my family jewels for certain with that letter opener of hers for insinuating that she was incapable of taking care of herself.

A different ache, higher and in my chest, grew sharper. I tightened my hold on her and whispered in her ear, "You are safe." She sighed happily and the pain and fear that had been threading through her smell finally eased. My last thought as I fell asleep was that I could breathe in her scent forever.


	15. Chapter 15

Lavender scented sheets tickled my nose. Wherever it was, it was sun-filled, even behind my eyelids. Instinct told me to snap to attention and assess the situation, note the exits, plan an emergency escape, but I couldn't manage just yet. Strangely, there was no zing of adrenaline from the momentary panic at the unfamiliarity. Something stronger said that I was safe. Taking my time, I stretched to my full length. No injuries, not even a bruise. Just a strange, undefinable jagged weakness, like my whole being was tender with new flesh. Then I remembered. Algaliarept.

My face flamed and I wished that I could curl up and die. He must think I'm a lovesick child, learning his name like some sort of stalker just to run to him the minute I got into a little bit of trouble. Ok, maybe someone trying to burn my soul out of me was more than a bit of trouble. Even though I really preferred to let the bed swallow me whole so I didn't have to face him, I sat up.

 _Holy crap, am I on one of his sets?_ The ceiling was beechwood flowing between islands of white plaster. The rivers spilled down the walls to pool into the floorboards. Several windows looking out into trees and a few skylights filled the room with mid-morning sun. At the end of the bed, the footboard was a delicate maze of woven branches. I sat in a small sea of down comforter and soft sheets.

A slight snore brought my attention to the left side of the bed. Al sprawled in a curved green velvet armchair, his head hanging over the back. He was going to have one hell of a crick in his neck when he woke up. That firm chest and ridged stomach were just visible through the unbuttoned white silk shirt. _God, I want to run my hand down that_. _Are those breeches?_ Whatever they were, they were wrinkled. Long bony feet splayed on the floor looked like he'd been walking barefoot through a garden.

As if he felt me watching him, his head turned to fix me with that red stare.

* * *

Kyra sat engulfed in the bedclothes and pillows, dark eyes wide and her hair forming an interesting bird's nest where it had come free of her braid. She was surprised, not angry or frightened, which was a good sign.

"Good morning, Kyra," I said, not quite ready to move from the awkward position in which I had fallen asleep. Not knowing when she would regain consciousness, I wanted to be nearby so she wouldn't wake alone in a strange place and panic. As tempting as it had been, the bed was not an option for much the same reason. If she panicked, she was likely to start lobbing curses once she realized that running was impossible here.

"Hi. Um, where are we?" her voice was huskier than usual from sleep.

"The ever after," I answered, slowly sitting up and working the stiffness out of my neck.

"Oh." Her mouth froze in the formation of the word, eyes going even wider in amazement. I allowed her to process the information for a minute.

"Your aura appears much improved, considering someone tried to rip your soul from you three days ago. How do you feel?" Better in that it was thicker than the thin film in which I had discovered her. And it had taken on new streaks of green, the colour of growth. Sparkles? She had changed in the past few weeks.

"Uh, good. Little dizzy, scratch that, really dizzy. But good. Thanks." She ran a hand through her tangled hair and frowned when she realized its state. "I guess I owe you one." Biting her bottom lip, she removed the elastic to finger comb her hair, not looking at me.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you not to become indebted to a demon, little witch?" I chuckled, knowing she wouldn't take my words seriously. "Especially an open-ended one?"

"I've already been hauled off to the ever after. What could be worse than that?" Her laughter filled the room to outshine the sunlight. "Don't answer that." She held up a warning finger to forestall any sarcasm on my part. Despite her light-heartedness, something about her said that she knew more than she was letting on. There was a new wariness to her.


	16. Chapter 16

"How long have I been here?"

"Three days." He adopted his customary upright, but also seemingly at ease, posture to fill the room with his commanding, very masculine presence. I half-expected him to fiddle with the buttons at his shirt cuffs.

Three days of unconsciousness, alone with a murderer/demon/rapist. I had to remind myself that I was also two of those three. Still, I felt extremely vulnerable. It didn't help that I wondered about inevitable bodily functions. Marking that as Do Not Want to Know, I shoved it aside. Speaking of not wanting to know, when I disentangled myself from the covers and swung my legs over the side of the bed, I realized I was wearing a white silk nightgown that left my arms bare. It was very thin.

"Uh, do you have any clothes I could borrow?" I blushed. Between the gunpowder and sweat that had permeated it, I wasn't ready to even look at my suit just yet. And I while I had no wounds, I was pretty sure that it would have a couple of bullet holes.

"Are you going to accuse me of keeping it on hand for a harem?" he asked sourly, my face flamed even hotter at his anger. Even worse, and more confusing, was the hurt underneath.

"Sorry about that." If it were possible, I swear I turned even redder. I searched for something to say that wasn't as lame. _Sorry I kinda lost it on you, and wrecked your place, but I kinda lack social skills and didn't know how to deal with a guy I just slept with knowing my cycle better than I did and handing me a species specific contraceptive curse?_ The whole thing was especially weird when I mentally put it like that.

A golden wash of ever after, smelling of verdant meadows and warm forests, shimmered over me. A purple silk gown spilled to the floor, delicate white and gold embroidery spiraled around the neckline and down the long sleeves. I wondered if it was from the costume shop because it looked like it belonged in this curious house. The best part was that my epic case of morning breath was gone. "I have got to learn that spell," I muttered. "Thank you." We stood there in the awkward silence. Luckily, my stomach chose that moment to interrupt.

He offered his arm, which I accepted once I realized that moving too quickly made me feel as if I were leaving part of myself behind. I might as well have been ancient for how slowly I shuffled along. I was glad to leave the room. I didn't trust myself any longer there with him. His scent wasn't hitting me as quite as hard as it had that morning, it seemed to have permeated my subconscious while breathing it in for three days. Then again, he also wasn't throwing a tantrum at the moment.

The beechwood poured down a curved stairway, the railing more intricate latticework. The warm wood was as smooth as butter under my bare feet. I grinned at the strange contrast between my shorter, clean, white feet and his longer, dirty, ruddy ones.

It was like a demon-sized above-ground hobbit hole, much smaller than his one in reality with its angles, but much cozier here with its organic curves. More white plaster and golden wood caught the light here as well to make everything glow with sunlight. Through the windows that flanked the front door I saw a meadow of wildflowers and trees that surrounded the house. I wanted to go and explore, but Al drew me around to a kitchen and left me by a breakfast nook surrounded by more windows while he rummaged around in the cupboards. I swear, if he threw one thing I would throw it right back at his head!

* * *

"You don't have to feed me," she said. "Really, you've done more than enough already. But I am going to have to ask for a ride home." She bit her bottom lip and shifted her feet in embarrassment.

"Tap a line," I ordered. One eyebrow rose in a wary question, but after a moment she did so. Her knees promptly buckled and her eyes started to roll back into her head. While I did enjoy seeing her like that from pleasure, not so much from pain. Well, not that kind of pain, anyway. My breath quickened and a low tightness grew at the memory of her whimpers and moans as she had adjusted to me the first time I entered her.

I inspected my pantry as her knees hit the slate floor hard behind me. I suppressed a wince, but she needed to know how defenseless she was at the moment. She relied on her tricks and magic in equal measure. Without being able to use the lines, she would be helpless back in reality, where she might still be a target.

"Ok, point taken," she said tersely after she'd recovered and rose to her feet. The petite witch saw me as the lesser of two evils when it came to returning to reality without even being able to set a circle. At least that was progress.

 _I could make pancakes, but no syrup. Or peanut butter. Oatmeal? No_. There was pretty much just bread and cheese. _Rachel will never let me live this down,_ I sighed to myself as set about slicing them and stoking up the banked coals in the fireplace.

"Thank you," she said again. "You could've left my dumb ass there to die." Her light tone belied the bitter undertone directed at herself.

She had trusted me thrice now, and I didn't know how to cope with that level of trust from someone as broken as her. She knew better, yet evidently felt safe enough to ask for my help as she was dying. Who in their right mind asks a demon for help when they're at their weakest?


	17. Chapter 17

"Al, how did you find me?"

Without turning from his work, he said, "I had a status monitor on you, and when it went off, I cast a locater." There was a hint of guilt in his beautiful accent, but it was also completely unapologetic.

Those kinds of spells required focusing objects. I didn't leave the toothbrush or hair behind, but the fork and glass from breakfast on the other hand. Like an amateur, I had forgotten about them. And that damnable robe. When I saw it again, I was burning it. _No, not when, if! If!_ He could have used those in so many ways, to find, to hurt, or to kill. Instead, he used them to help and only when I required it. My emotions swung like a pendulum from gratitude to violated. They eventually settled on the former.

"Thanks," I said, only a little begrudgingly. "But if you ever invade my privacy like that again, I'll stick your soul in a mirror and sell you to a teenage vampire." The line of his shoulders eased, then tensed as they shook with laughter at the image.

"Ok, point taken," he said in echo of me as he set the sandwiches over the fire. I couldn't help but be a little impressed. If it wasn't a spell, I managed to either burn whatever I was cooking or eating it raw. And that was with electricity. "Next time I'll leave your dumb ass there to die."

"Damn straight," I sniffed and sat sideways on the window seat when vertigo struck again. It was too tall for my feet to reach the floor, so I sat cross-legged with the skirt tucked under me. But I had to say it. I needed to drive a wedge between us so that I would be free of him when I left. I couldn't afford ties to anyone. And certainly not him. "Al, I've been doing some research." Even though I stood in a sunbeam, I felt chilled through.

"I noticed," he said dryly.

Glossing over whatever that meant, I continued in a rush, "I found the file that the coven of moral standards and ethics has on you." I would not allow myself to feel shame over digging into his background after he'd been spying on me.

"Oh? Did it contain the Croke Park Massacre? I would hate for credit for that to go to someone else." He was being too flippant and still not looking at me, which was fine because I wasn't looking at him either.

* * *

"How much of it was because of your deals and how much because you enjoyed it?" Her chestnut hair that she hid under her many disguises she now used as a veil between us. That smoky alto voice betrayed nothing of her emotions, but the pieces fell into place nonetheless.

"I have not been that demon since before you were born." I couldn't help the bitterness that spilled out. "I would never do _that_ again," I said firmly. I wanted to grab her and shake her, which would have been an improvement upon my old standby of cuffing her upside the head. I wanted to do that, too, but I didn't feel like trading curses with her. "And certainly not to you."

"I've heard that before." Her laugh was more of a bark, harsh and ugly. Something in me snapped and the old darkness poured out like a tsunami to destroy everything its path.

"I have done everything you requested. I have done nothing but help you, you stupid, mule-headed witch!" I roared. The tiles caught my voice and threw it back at me. "Bartholomew's balls, I tried to kill my best friend the first time I met her! Do you know how many times I tried after that? I never even touched you until you came to me first. If I am so untrustworthy why did you say my name as you lay dying? You had no aura to speak of for almost three days, Kyra, and I held you for the first twenty-four hours. Tell me, do you feel physically violated?"

To my surprise, she didn't flinch, tap the line that ran through the field, or yell back at me. She didn't even adopt that eerie stillness of survival. Her expression was closed. I just wished I could foresee which way she would leap, even though my history of predicting the behaviours of demonesses my batting average was decidedly less than a hundred. Was that the correct analogy? I had only watched one baseball game, finding it as entertaining as listening to a lecture from Dali.

I flipped the sandwiches, forcing myself to calm and focus by watching the shifting embers. My volume dropped, but all of the anger and bitterness remained. "I took my vengeance on the elves by enslaving and selling them. Naturally, their numbers quickly dwindled due to the curse in their DNA and I had to expand to include humans. And eventually witches." I turned to face her at this last, she didn't twitch a muscle. Nor should she, considering the infamous parts of our people's history.

"I told myself that it was the only method of survival in the closed economy of the ever after, even as I dragged what had become of our species to the auction block in the same way that the elves had once done to us." I stared at her as I spoke, angry that this tiny witch was forcing me to drag up the past. And I couldn't even say why I didn't just drop her perky little ass back in reality. "We convinced ourselves that witches were so far devolved that we were no more related to them than humans are to chimpanzees. What little compassion I had that withstood the war, I sacrificed for the sake of continued existence."

"Yes, I did enjoy much of my work. I enjoyed manipulating those who sought to manipulate me, dragging them back to hell with me. I enjoyed taking my pain out on all those who walked under the sun. Sometimes it was sanctioned by those who summoned me, although not always. But that didn't matter to me." She still hadn't moved, or even acknowledged what she was hearing. The sandwiches were almost ready, so I busied myself with plates and banking the cinders again. "The first time I met Rachel Morgan, I was sent to kill her in a way that provoked the most terror. And yes, I did try rape, but that wasn't her biggest fear. What I did do was almost as bad in the long run."

Her oval face was paler than usual with a trace of fear, that much was obvious even if her natural perfume was not laced with it. The iron tang of blood blossomed when she bit through the inside of her lower lip to prevent it from trembling. _Now that she knows, she's afraid of me_ , I thought bitterly.

"We had forgotten what it was like to have morals, ethics all those things that make someone a person. I couldn't do what I had to and still have a conscience. I became what was expected of me, and in turn I helped create a certain public image for my kind in order to make it easier to maintain my lifestyle, and I lived very well." This last I emphasized so as to impress upon her the depths of my dealings. "Or at least until I had a sense of morality forcibly instilled in me," I smiled with rueful fondness at the recollection.

She stared silently at the plate I set in front of her, not moving from her sideways position. I was too agitated to sit, so I leaned against the counter and ate mine while she tore hers into pieces that she barely ate. When she finally broke the stillness, I almost didn't hear her. "The deepest scars I have aren't physical, or at least, nowhere they'd be easily seen."

"My mom worked for the IS, Arcane Arts division. Not long after I was born, she was sent after a circle of black witches, demon summoners, and didn't come back. My dad was an earth witch and never quite got over it. He wouldn't even touch the lines unless necessary, he hated and feared them, us, that much. The first time I tapped a line…" Her speech was too clipped, too precise. "So when it got out that, that's what the cure does, he didn't take it so well." The silk, sized for a slender elf and not a curvaceous witch, strained across her bosom with her breathing, which was far too controlled.

"I ran away with my boyfriend and he put me in a bloodhouse. I lured more people into it. Got out when I could but it wasn't soon enough." She bowed her head to let her hair hide her face again. "In my line of work it's safer to keep everyone at arm's length, but I was stupid enough to take on a partner. She almost killed me when a job went south, literally stabbed me in the back," she snorted. "And that was the last person I let close. So you see, the problem isn't that I don't trust you. It's that I do, even though I know I shouldn't and I'm just going to end up paying for it again."

Stunned by her revelation, I dropped what was left of my sandwich on my plate, but before I could say anything, she continued. "I developed my, uh, skills a few years after the bloodhouse and before I went straight two years ago, I was an assassin of sorts. No poisoned blowdarts or anything. Hiding, finding, or fabricating the right information at the right place and the right time." She toyed with the hem of the skirt. I tried to not stare, and failed. Not that this tiny woman was capable of murder, Ceri had been about the same height but slenderer and she had been ruthless when crossed, but I felt mesmerized.

"Planting evidence that someone was stealing from his partner who liked to give out Colombian neckties for Christmas. Or made sure that the right people knew when a certain Were was poaching in their territory. Someone else took out the target. Ways that it couldn't be traced back to me or my employer. I was good at it." Said without regret or pride, it was a statement of fact in much the same way I had listed my own sins. The words were stumbling out of her, as if she had never spoken of any of this before. And I had had no clue what to do with any of it other than listen and hope that it would be enough.

"When I get hurt, I fall back on old habits and take it out on other people. I go out and look for wetwork like a Brimstone addict looking for a fix. Hell, you've seen what I'm like when I lose my temper over something stupid like a condescending asshole." Her tone dared me to protest the characterization, but it was an accurate one in retrospect. "I don't want to fall off the wagon, which is exactly what'll happen if we…" She broke off as if unsure how to finish that sentence. "And you're not worth that."

"I've plotted the deaths of several people back in Cincy who helped make me who I am." She wrapped her arms around herself. "Down to the last detail, until I run through the plans in my dreams. Hell, I could pin a bunch of what I've done on them and I don't trust myself not to do it."

"I know that after nearly twenty years I should be over it…" she turned away in shame. This would be my cue to say something, but I was working without a script.

"I haven't been back to Cincinnati because I'm afraid that I'll go and prove to my dad that became the monster he believed me to be. In a way designed to provoke the most terror. And he would just be the start of the list. I even have the plans down to the point where I sometimes dream about them." Small, white hands shook with impotent rage. When her head swung to look at me, her eyes were bright with unshed tears. The mask had fallen away completely and the fear and wrath that had been slipping through the cracks was written in the tense lines of her body and painted across her face.

I took a few steps towards her. This was unfamiliar territory. For centuries upon centuries I had used the truth to manipulate minds, shatter wills, and ensnare souls. I was unaccustomed to using it to piece someone back together. If I believed in a higher power, I would have prayed to find the right words. As it stood, I was alone in this, but that was not a new experience for me.

"There was a time that I had the opportunity to save our kind, and I wanted to walk away because I believed that we were beyond redemption." Although she was not one of the old generation, she had survived nightmares enough in her own way. Even if the smut was not visible, she had enough darkness on her soul to count as one of us. Ours had been purged, hers had not. "I was willing to let every one of us die so that we could not taint your futures with our past."

"What changed?" Her smoky voice cracked on the question. Closing the remaining distance between us, I crouched to gently cup her face in both hands. She tried to avoid my eyes, but I wouldn't let her.

"Someone very stubborn convinced me that we could be more than the villains that we had become, that we were expected to be. And despite my many vociferous protestations, I was dragged into saving our collective ass," I said wryly. The corners of her mouth twitched slightly. "If one person thought that my black soul was worth saving, then it would be all for naught if I refused to save yours," I said gently.

When her focus darted away from me again, I let her go, the memory of her warm skin tingling in my hands. I sat across from her at the table and watched the breeze shift the grass and flowers in the meadow, wondering exactly when I had started giving a damn again.

She tucked her hair behind an ear, revealing a vampire bite along the white flesh where the shoulder curves up into the neck, undoubtedly from her time in the bloodhouse. Rage flashed through me. Following its wake, I was possessed by the craving to sink my teeth into the scar and pump it full of my own saliva to make it mine, to transform her remembered pain into pleasure.

The question was so low I almost didn't hear it. "If I return to Cincinnati, will you come with me?"

"I promised that I would take you if you asked," I said carefully, turning to look at her.

"That's not quite what I meant." She fidgeted with the cuff of the embroidered sleeves and I had to bite back a smile at the mirrored version of the familiar idiosyncrasy.

"Would you stay to make sure I don't slip into old habits?" Small white teeth bit into a pink lip as she managed to look up at me with dark eyes so full of fear and fragile trust that the ember buried in my heart flared to life.

"I vow on my hope for redemption that I will help you find yours, Kyra," I pledged gently.

A single tear trickled from under one closed eyelid. I brushed it away with a thumb and that was when the anguish she had been so desperately fighting broke upon her face.


	18. Chapter 18

Part of me wanted to laugh at him, his flowery choice of words. But it wasn't wise to reject a demon with an offer, even if it seemed to be too good to be true. In the maelstrom of my mind, the only familiar element was hormones. It was the only explanation for the twinge in my chest that had nothing to do with the usual pain and shame. The more time I spent with him, the less I could think, the more I felt, and it was confusing as all hell. I could almost say that I felt like a lovesick teenager if not for the fact that what I mistook for my first love hadn't turned me into a bloodwhore. So I didn't have the greatest point of reference for these sort of things.

"What role do you want to play, Al?" I wrapped my arms around myself. Normally I would have avoided body language that showed so much of what I was feeling, but we were a little beyond that now.

"I already am, Kyra, if you would let me," he replied softly in his gorgeous voice that sent a shiver through me. "The question you should be asking is what role do you want me to play?" He let me think over his words, but all I could do was gape like a fish and blink rapidly. My mind was racing too fast for me to process the new concepts I was being presented with.

Once I had separated out one train of thought, with my head bowed I peered up at his eyes. The sun brought out faint gold flecks in his irises and they were warm compared to their usual fire when he was irritated. Or between the sheets. "Maybe tomorrow we could go to Cincinnati?" I was still feeling too raw in every way possible to return to reality today.

"If you would like. I won't even charge you for the trip." He rewarded me with a genuine smile that lit up his eyes even more.

"I wouldn't even know how to repay you," I slumped back and ran a hand through my hair. "Speaking of which, if you aren't getting paid, what exactly was the deal?"

He got to his feet, collected the plates, and rinsed them in the sink. I almost couldn't hear him over the sound of his work. "If I couldn't get you to come in of your own free will, then I would have to be a clown for Rachel's twins at their first birthday party."

"Oh that is just cruel and unusual for everyone involved," I laughed. His back was still to me and his ears were becoming very red.

"Those rings," he began as he dried his hands. I sat upright, having forgotten about them entirely with everything that had been said between us and the novelty of waking up in the ever after. "What were you doing with them?"

"Uh, I was going to break their enchantment before selling them to the client. A witch who collects artifacts," I answered cautiously as he approached. There was no way I was going to give a working set of slavers to anyone, not even Al. I really wondered what he'd done with them, but I wasn't about to reveal how worried I was about letting them out of my sight.

He drew something from his pocket and offered it to me. As I had suspected, it was the rings, now blackened. With my forefinger and thumb, I plucked them from his open palm, the heat of his skin lingering in my fingertips for far longer than was appropriate. The bands of metal were lifeless and no longer a threat to anyone. I had no pockets, not even a bra to tuck them into, so I set them on the table.

"Thank you," I said with all earnestness.

"I should be thanking you. If I could, I would destroy every last one. They-" He broke off and his hand closed into a fist, his goat-slitted eyes saw the ghosts of the past and not me. The strong lines of his face grew into a grotesquerie of hate and wrath that would have scared the piss out of me if I had any sense left. But considering I had jumped the lines and slept with a demon and asked him for help when I was about to die, sense had left me a long time ago.

I cupped his fist in my hands as I stood. He seemed to come back to himself then, seemingly startled to see me, probably having forgotten that I was there. I raised one hand to his face to stroke it gently with a thumb, he was curiously soft where he wasn't covered in light stubble. His tension eased and it seemed strangely right when he slipped an arm around my waist to draw me closer. He raised his other hand to my hair, an unspoken question hovered between us. In answer, I rose up on my toes, grabbed his collar, and dragged him down to press my lips to his.

He tasted like liquid sunshine. It was hard to say whether the pounding pulse in our interlaced fingers was mine or his. The scent of cedar wrapped around me like a caress and I wanted to drink all of him in.

* * *

I let her pull me down. Her mouth was slightly open already and her tongue quickly invaded me. She had gone up on the tips of her toes and as we explored each other, she had to lean more and more into me. As enjoyable as it was, my already stiff neck was starting to complain. When I broke away, she settled back down on her heels and looked down to hide behind her hair as she tried to retreat from her emotions. I let her take two steps before I tightened my grip on her hand just enough to tell her that I didn't want her to go, but didn't restrain her either.

"You're too short," I mock frowned.

"And you're too tall," she grumbled. Then a blush blossomed on her cheeks and spread outwards. She suddenly became very interested in the pattern of the woodgrain in the flooring. "Um, I don't suppose you happen to have a, uh, curse on hand?" The red rose to the roots of her hair and she still didn't look up. Amazing that after all the petite witch had been through, she could still blush at the drop of a hat.

"After last time, I thought you would rather use my guts for garters, so no. But I could teach you to stir one if you foresee a need for them?" I arched a brow and a half-smile at her.

"'Use your guts for garters?' I'm going to have to remember that one," she mused aloud. "Maybe tonight you could show me?" she asked hopefully, hesitantly stepping back towards me.

"Be careful what you ask for," I grinned, scooping her up and throwing her over my shoulder. Air hissed in over her teeth and she tensed. I paused, waiting for any protestations either verbal, physical, or magical. A grunt and a light whack on my butt were the only rebukes. I responded with a swat of my own on hers, which was the right mix of firmness and softness for the perfect jiggle. She responded with a quick inhalation and a low "oh." The growing musk in her scent was my reward.

As I carried her outside, she pulled my shirt from the back of my breeches. I chuckled and ran one hand up the back of one leg and down the other. She kicked and squirmed when it tickled, but calmed when I spanked her again, her fragrance deepening again. I filed that piece of information away for future reference. In return she pulled my shirt from my breeches and lightly raked her nails along my back, a not so subtle reminder of the marks she left last time.

I laid her down on a quilt conjured from the bedroom, cushioned even more by the moss growing thick by the stream running past the house. Before she'd regained her equilibrium, her hands flew to the buttons of my breeches. Last time had been quick, although she was hesitant. Now she held nothing in reserve, but I wanted to take our time.

With one hand, I pinned her wrists above her head, despite her struggles. Not that she was trying to escape, she was reaching to tear my shirt off. She stilled, eyes closing, back arching at the lines of imbalance I traced along her neck to her collarbone. I carefully avoided any bites. I wanted to show her what it was truly like with a demon.

I was so absorbed with watching the fluctuations of her expression that I was caught off- guard when she tentatively pushed energy into me, vibrant with the passion that she was just now starting to show. I was getting the feeling that it was always there, just below the surface, and normally kept tightly under control. The flow was hesitant, as if she were unsure of what she was doing or how I would react. I growled playfully as I returned the wave with a little more force, carefully due to her weakened aura.

She gasped and put real effort into escaping my hold and I freed her. Her arms curled around my sides to cling to me as she trembled violently from the ecstasy, her breath was hot on my chest where she rested her head. I watched her in amusement, vicariously relishing the experiences to which I was introducing her.

After a moment's recovery, she filled me again without any timidity, her signature singing through every part of me. She used my distraction to wrap her legs around my hips and flip me over using a twist of leverage. For such a small woman, she was deceptively strong, especially her legs that strained around me.

I could feel her heat through the silk and wool, and I twitched low in response. I reached for the dress to pull it over her head and she caught my hands, apprehension spreading over her like a shadow. "Scars," she mumbled, not looking at me.

"My night vision is better than yours. I saw everything last time," I grinned and stroked her legs, easing the hem up a little higher before letting it fall back to where it was. "So there's no point in hiding from me, little witch."

Her wide eyes were so deep with a fragile trust that I was momentarily breathless. Shyly, she drew the shimmering silk over her head. I caught one rosy nipple in my mouth while she was still caught in the fabric, which barely muffled her surprised gasp. The nub instantly hardened, as did I. She wavered while trying to disentangle herself without jerking away. I wrapped my arms around her waist to stabilize her, trailing more imbalances along her spine. When she'd finally extricated herself, she smacked my chest and wrinkled her nose at me. I caught her wrist before she could swing again and took the other breast lightly between my teeth.

She roughly grabbed a fistful of my hair and squirmed, doing her best to position herself over me. The air hit her when I moved away and she bucked against me before withdrawing to yank my shirt over my head with a snarl. She pushed me back onto the blanket, hard when I didn't cooperate at first and tried to intimidate her with a glare. It was cute when she tried to physically overpower me.

Tangling my hands in her thick tresses, only a tad more gently than she had done to me, I tasted the spice of her mouth. Although I would have bet my convertible that she had never seen breeches before, her nimble fingers had them swiftly unbuttoned. Her nails left sparks of imbalance as they passed down my legs while undressing me. I bent one arm behind my head to watch in appreciation as she worked.

I sprang free as I hadn't bothered with underwear. _Is that a frown?_ In all my years, I'd been received with fear, apprehension, joy, but never disappointment. "Something wrong, love?"

She flushed and shifted her weight. "I, uh, thought I remembered you being… bigger?"

Laughing, I pulled her arm that she leaned on so that she fell into me. "You seemed to be in a bit of discomfort last time," I answered with a tweak of a nipple.

When she was capable of speech again, she tucked her head into my shoulder and said, "I, um, kind of liked it?" Embarrassment riddled her voice.

"You like a little pain?" I tried to downplay my delight. White teeth worried at a swollen lip and she nodded. Oh, this opened so many possibilities.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for PTSD flashback

A shimmer washed over him, leaving his manhood the size that I remembered. He quickly rolled me onto my back, but not vampire fast, which I knew he could. My heart pounded and every part of me went hyper-sensitive in anticipation of his touch. He wrapped one leg around both of mine and held my hands above my head in one hand. I had been held down many, many times, but I had never felt safe before. Perhaps it was because I knew he would let go if I put up more than a token struggle.

I lifted into his kiss, but the force behind it pressed me back down. As his tongue dipped between my lips, his fingers dipped between my lower lips. I squirmed as he brushed against my sensitive bud, after which he carefully avoided. _The bastard,_ I smiled ruefully. He curled his fingers and my squirming became more insistent, out of my control, even as he held me where he wanted me. Where I wanted to be.

Every breath of him, glimpse of his red eyes, brush of our bodies sent pulses of lightning through me until the need overrode my mind. I wanted him so badly it actually hurt. My wanton cries echoed throughout the golden dappled trees. He devoured my mouth, drawing his teeth along my bottom lip and his thumb swirled around the neglected part that was begging for attention.

Then he drew a thread of ley line energy, hot and intoxicating, spilling from his lips to where he stroked my core. I came hard and fast, screaming into him, the surges of rapture seemed never-ending. His muscles bulged wonderfully as I spasmed under the constricting prison of his body where I felt free.

When I came back down from the high, my arms draped around his shoulders as he continued to caress me oh so intimately. His eyes burned with the hunger that grew feverish, radiating through his skin. I threw my head back and moaned as my own heat began building again under his insistent strokes. Incapable of speech, I whimpered and took what I wanted in hand. I marveled at how velvety soft he was. And hard. Very, very hard.

"Not sated, my little witch?" he teased with a nip at my ear. The deep vibrations of his voice, whisper of breath on my neck, and damnable fondling were driving me crazy. I grunted and latched onto his throat, nibbling then working up to a firm bite as I squeezed him down below. He was rough with stubble under my tongue and salty. _Little old me was making the big, bad demon work up a sweat?_ A swelling of pride rose at the thought.

I wished I could do whatever the hell that was he had done back to him. Instead, I pushed what energy I had spindled into him, not so far gone as to tap the line with my aura the way it was. Still, his breath quickened and his self-control quickly snapped. He rolled to position himself between my thighs. I whined a little at the emptiness when he withdrew his hand. But not for long.

Without warning, he plunged into me. I cried out, too distracted by the combined pain and pleasure and the line spilling into me where we were joined to realize he had pinned my arms again. Every nerve ending in my body was electrified and tuned to him. Even where we weren't physically touching, I could feel him as if he were another part of me.

The heat in his soft smile and fiery eyes spilled between us until it was almost painful. And neither of us was even moving yet. We were both enjoying the closeness and the pleasure of learning a new partner. When we did find our rhythm it was almost too much to bear. My whole body rang as it approached its peak.

"Not yet," he admonished gently and slowed. Pulsing with need, I growled at him and did my best to roll him into his back. All I succeeded in doing was frustrating myself and amusing him.

He kissed me fervently, tenderly and yet hungrily at the same time. Despite my many partners, I was never big on kissing, even those I was with willingly. This decidedly un-chaste affection was breathtaking with its newness and the earnestness behind it.

I was so absorbed in it that I almost didn't notice the faint tickling. Before I could ask what it was, he gently drew the line down through my mental pathway to fill me and then spilling over into him. As he had promised before, it was so sweet and lingering that the exquisite sensation bordered on a sharp ache. I lost all sense in the fog of bliss and writhed against him, urging our pace to a wilder one.

Al was happy to oblige with ever more powerful thrusts. The all over tingling and goosebumps indicated that my climax was approaching like a Mac truck, and I sensed that his was just as close. Rather than let him have all the fun, I pulled back some of what he had drawn through me. The feel of him pervading every part of me sent me screaming over the edge in a sparkling cascade. His cries rose as a deep counterpoint to my own in a duet that resounded through the trees.

When I regained my senses, Al's forehead was pressed to mine, our perspiration slick between us. Certain muscles were still holding him as tightly as he held my wrists. It was almost becoming a naturally comfortable position under his strength. Somewhere in the blissful haze came the thought that I should be running, not enjoying being at the mercy of a demon in the ever after, dependent on him even for clothes. Not even if it was the best sex of my life. If he were to keep me trapped here, at least it would be pleasurable. Then again, the bloodhouse had been, too. That thought doused my afterglow with ice water.

I screamed as panic sliced through me and adrenaline pumped where there had been endorphins, my heart and breathing racing from something other than passion. I flailed my legs and twisted my shoulders to bash him in the face with my elbows. He jerked back in shock and blood trickled from his nose. I flinched from the beating that was surely going to come.

To my amazement, Algaliarept stretched out on his back, hands behind his head, looking remarkably vulnerable with his flaccid member and eyes closed.  And was he humming Takata?  Did he not care that I'd just panicked and punched him in the face?  Evidently the nosebleed was of no concern since he'd taken care of that with a minor spell.  The damn demon looked so peaceful that I'd swear he was sleeping, except he was still humming.  Soothing as the familiar tune was, I didn't want to be calmed.  Past experiences taught me not to fall into a false sense of security.

 After crouching in terror and hypervigilance, my body wrested control from the panic and I finally sank to the soft moss in exhaustion.  If there was to be any retribution for lashing out, I had no strength left to defend myself.

* * *

One minute I was wonderfully deep in her, both of us catching our breath until she relaxed.  The next she was a wildcat.  And not in a good way.  Unfortunately, we were still locked together, and no part of her was about to loosen any time soon.  Once stars stopped swirling in my vision, I started to go into my mist form to get away. 

But she tapped the line first.  Hard and through me.  Her face twisted with the agony it must have cost her with a compromised aura, and she yanked the whole line through me, burning through my synapses.  Where our cries had been of fervour, they now echoed in pain.  Luckily, she reached her limit first.  Mother pus bucket, she was a quick learner.  I slowly withdrew to sit about two feet away with my hands in plain sight.  Just because she had stopped before blacking out didn’t mean she wouldn’t start flinging curses if startled.

She scrambled to a crouch and huddled in on herself.  I recognized the familiar posture and my heart ached at the sight.  Unseeing eyes darted everywhere as if expecting me to lash out at her, and I will admit the thought had crossed my mind, but more out of habit than any true urge.  Going against my nature, I waited until she left the past behind and came back to herself.

“Kyra.”  She recoiled at the sound of her name, waiting for the Big Bad Wolf to go for her throat.  Fear carved through her scent, the soured spice sharp, and completely overpowered her lingering musk of arousal.  I used a brush and wash curse to dress the both of us in hopes that the clothes would return her to herself.  Instead of Ceri’s old dress, I gave her the catsuit and even her undergarments.  But not her weapons.  Gradually, she regained her composure.  The shattered pieces of her psyche falling back into their usual disparate places.

“Sorry, flashback” she muttered as she stood.  Tension still wound her wire tight.  While she was not looking at me, she was more hyper-aware than usual as her glance skimmed around the edges of me without ever looking at my face.  She was watching for any sudden movements.  Then more briskly, “We should probably get going.  I might even make it back to…” she stopped herself before naming a place.  Obviously she was shaken if she almost slipped up.  “Make it back home in time for dinner.”

“You said tomorrow,” I pointed out.

“I said ‘maybe’ tomorrow.”  She folded her arms and continued to avoid looking at me, but she did turn her left side to me.  Her dominant half away from me to brace for an attack.

“Fine.”  I stood and straightened my coat.  “On one condition.  You tell me what the Turn that was all about.” 

Obviously she considered feeding me a pretty lie or half-truth.  She quickly realized that it was not possible after that outburst.  “I thought maybe you were trying to trap me here.”

“I told you before, love, I have not been that demon for a long time,” I glowered.  She failed to completely suppress a flinch.  Silence was her only response.  The fear had been reined in, but still hovered just below the surface of shame that spilled over her.

“It was the bloodhouse wasn’t it?”  The question was met with silence that stank of fear, though she did not spook as I edged closer.  “It would be the epitome of hypocrisy were I to judge and punish you for reacting in… what is it called now?  Post-traumatic stress disorder?”  The affected memory lapse made one edge of her mouth curve, and yet she continued to focus on my movements instead of my face.  Moving cautiously, her fear eased as I neared, encouraging me to raise a hand to her smooth, albeit cold, cheek.  I hardly dared to breathe when she leaned into my touch.  As it was, that same breath was stolen when those fantastically bright eyes met mine.

“I can’t promise that I won’t flake out on you again,” she whispered in that voice that stroked me like a physical caress.  “Nor can I promise that I’ll go straight.”  She huffed in amusement at my lecherous smirk.  “Hell, I can’t promise much of anything, but I gave my word.”

“My dear,” I purred as I gripped her hips, though not as tightly as I would have liked so as not to spook her again.  “Didn’t anyone warn you never to make a promise to a demon?”  Her throaty chuckle was my reward as I sent us both through the lines.


	20. Chapter 20

Whistling an old tune, I strode into the dayroom where Rachel and Trent were playing with their twin sons.

“When did Junior’s start this ‘Rachel Morgan special’?  We should be getting royalties or something,” I affected a scowl as I dispensed two of the coffees in the paperboard carrier to the elf and the witch.  In true Rachel fashion, she slurped down some caffeine before engaging in conversation. 

The infant in her lap wrapped chubby fingers in a clump of her hair and pulled until he nearly spewed the hot liquid all over him.  I pulled out the winged pony trick that had worked marvels with Lucy and Ray.  She smiled in thanks, still drinking, when he released the bright red curls to clap at the display.

I perched on an arm of the couch to drink my own, which I certainly did not need since I felt as wound as a pixie in a room full of toads.  The two adult pairs of green eyes watched in amusement as they took in my anxiousness.  I glowered at both of them until tiny hands grasped my pant leg. 

With an exaggerated sigh, I set down the cup to pick the boy up.  As usual, sticky fingers wanted to poke my eyes out with innocent curiosity.  I grew fangs and pretended to bite his hand, provoking a squeal of delight.

Inwardly, my warning flags were pricked seeing the redhead here instead of with Kyra.  Not long after arriving, she had requested to be left alone with Rachel.  Baffled, I had obliged and entertained myself with the children before stepping out for coffee.  I still had no bloody clue what was in that oblong package she had picked up at her bolthole that we had stopped at so she could get a few things.  She had only promised that she wouldn’t hurt anyone with it.  Not that she couldn’t, which was a very important distinction.

“Is that…?”  I came closer for a better look.  An ancient battered sword hilt peeked from a length of black silk.  Despite its age, it was clean and well-oiled.  I knew that if I peeled back the wrapping, elvish script would be etched into the blade: Darkness into light.

“Evidently when the enclave was dragging their heels in recognizing Lucy as Sa’han, due to her association with demons, Ms. Cunnington-”

“Kyra,” I corrected Trenton.

“Kyra thought to send a message,” he finished.

“By taking the speaker’s sword of office?” I roared with laughter.  Damn my dame, I knew she had stolen it, but that was positively devious!  “Too bad she didn’t let me in on the joke, otherwise I could have arranged for her to deliver it on live camera, nude,” I leered at Rachel, who still managed to turn the hue of her hair at the memory.  “Now where is the little witch?  Her coffee is getting cold.”

Trenton took the boys from us, mumbling something about a snack.  I glared at both of them, but waited with folded arms for Rachel to say whatever it was that they thought would upset me.

“Kyra and I had an interesting chat.”  She calmly crossed long legs and leaned back to look up at me.  The sparkle in her eyes and the hint of a smirk at her mouth indicated that I would not enjoy what they had discussed.  “Including some very pointed questions about demon anatomy.”

My ears grew warm.  Mother pus bucket, this was worse than when she and Ceri had conspired against me!  She just laughed at my grimace.

“What aren’t you telling me, Rachel?”  A knot of dread was forming in my stomach.  Her amusement flickered and died when she saw the look on my face.

“She’s gone, Al,” said Rachel softly.

“What?”  My hands itched to destroy something.

“She left a little while ago,” she answered, coming to stand next to me.  Of the few people still living who truly knew what I was like when enraged, she was the only one not terrified to be in the same room with me when I was.  “We have some on the camera feed, but she’d already made it to the woods by the time we caught up.  And I wouldn’t let Trent get the dogs.”

“You should have,” I snarled, fists clenched at my sides.

“She’s not a prisoner,” she snapped.  “She finished the course and was free to leave.  But I do want to learn some of her tricks.”  This last she muttered.  The breach of security, much of which had been designed because of her own tricks, must have bruised her pride.

I frowned.  She was correct.  And no demon liked to be kept against their will.  But damn it all, I promised her!  She wouldn’t have asked just to then skip off for a murder spree, would she?  No, I didn’t believe that she would fall so easily.

“She did leave this.”  Rachel handed me a small piece of folded paper with my name on it.

Written in a sharp, slanted hand, the scrap said: “Catch me if you can.  -YLW”

“YLW?” she asked, reading over my shoulder.

“‘Your little witch’,” I answered, carefully refolding the paper and tucking it in my breast pocket.  “I don’t suppose you have any of her DNA, blood, a signature, or anything do you, itchy witch?”  My eyes slid to watch her sideways with a sly grin.

“Oh no, Al,” she laughed.  “I’m not going to make it that easy for you!”


End file.
